Any other circumstance, Tyrion would never fall for such a poor trick, but love had a way of making people stupid. Tyrion looked at him, barely keeping his fury, and for a moment, Rohar was afraid that he would get attacked.
Luckily, Shae was more interested in Tyrion's sudden shift, a small smile appearing on her face at Tyrion's jealousy. She reached and brushed his arm, and they shared a lingering glance. "We have disturbed your walk enough, Lady Sansa," Tyrion said pointedly, and walked away.
Rohar followed.
Tyrion was still angry while they walked, but he managed to keep silent until they were at an empty stretch in the gardens, with no hiding spots for a crafty listener. "What was that?" he asked with a deceptively calm tone.
Rohar was glad that he already had an explanation. One that would work as a subtle warning as well. He smirked, and winked at Tyrion. "I was helping you, my Lord. I noticed your paramour is getting jealous, and decided to assist."
Tyrion froze. "M-my paramour. Who — I mean, what's that nonsense?" he said.
Rohar frowned. "My lord. I won't speak another word if you don't want, as discretion is a part of the job, but it was evident."
"What was evident?"
"That you and lady Shae are in love with each other. The way you look each other, stealing glances…"
"There's no such thing," Tyrion declared. "Don't speak any of it!"
Rohar shrugged. "I know how to keep my mouth shut, my lord. And, if you say there's nothing, then there is not. But then, you should be more careful or … other people might reach the same conclusion I did."
Rohar didn't like seeing the distressed expression on Tyrion's face. He was a good employer that was more than willing to treat Rohar friendly. He was not a true friend, Rohar knew, but he didn't expect him to be. They merely knew each other for a few weeks, and he worked for him.
Rohar certainly wouldn't have taken any real risk for Tyrion if his job hadn't required.
"I think we already said everything that needs to be said, my lord," Rohar reminded him with a sharp yet kind tone. Then, he glanced around. "And, if you want to talk more, maybe we should find a less visible spot."
It was a relatively secluded spot in the gardens, but ultimately, it was still the gardens.
"Good point. This discussion is over. No word to anyone."
Rohar nodded. "As you wish." Then, he paused. "Just … be careful."
Tyrion nodded in a stony manner, changing his direction to his room. He nodded once at the door before he slammed it shut, but Rohar didn't take it personally. Tyrion was already lost in his thoughts.
Not to mention, he was lost in his as well. Sansa Stark. Getting gold from meeting with her was not too much of a surprise. She was a daughter of a great house, currently captive, almost queen before her engagement had been canceled. By any reasonable measure, she was important.
But, for the first time, a ticket hadn't been discounted to bronze, but to silver. What did it mean? Was it just a coincidence, or did it have anything to do with Sansa? There were many rumors about how everyone in the North were godless witches with weird magics.
Was it not a rumor like he had previously discounted?
Regardless of the situation, his actions were clear. He needed to find a way to interact with Sansa again, to see if he could trigger another ticket with her. It would be a great challenge, as no other ticket triggered as easy as just meeting them, but the potential to get better rewards was a temptation difficult to resist.
"But first, let's see the difference," he said, and once again knelt down and started praying for the mercy of mysterious divines of chaos and gacha.
He first activated the silver ticket, ripping it up to gain his first elevated reward.
[Marathoner]
{Rare Trait: You have greatly increased stamina, you can perform strenuous activities for longer and recover from the exhaustion caused by them far quicker.}
He gulped. The reward was valuable. Exceedingly so. He could feel his body starting to transform, the exhaustion of the day slowly evaporating. The first thing he noticed was the intensity of the change.
It wasn't the first time he received a trait to improve his body. But, it was the first time the change felt intense, no doubt due to the difference in description. A difference between slight, and great increase was rather noticeable.
For a warrior, stamina was important. It meant he could fight longer, ran farther, swim away to far greater distances. It would even help his training. He did his best to train his spear skills and unarmed abilities, spending hours on it, but during those hours, he had to pace himself carefully, trying to ration energy after a day of blade training or brothel visit.
If he could push himself more without getting tired, his combat abilities would skyrocket, which was ultimately the most important thing. Ultimately, only the strength one had in his own hands mattered.
Curious, he pulled the bronze reward he received from Shae.
[Intermediate Polearm Mastery]
For a moment, he cursed, afraid that it was another wasted skill.
{Warning! The skill already exist and absorbed. Refund/Save for upgrade.}
He didn't even have to think before he picked the option for upgrade. The spear was his hidden ace, and the possibility of turning it stronger was simply too valuable.
[Intermediate Polearm Mastery (2/3)]
Just one more, and his strongest combat skill would got even stronger.
As much as he wanted to celebrate, or leave his room to walk around the Red Keep hoping for an accidental encounter giving him yet another reward, he decided to do something far more boring.
He left the bed, and start practicing his spearmanship, once again with a spoon instead of spear, imagining it to be longer while he tried to add some flourish to his moves.
But, as he worked on those steps, he noticed another benefit. The biggest drawback of a mobility-based style was exhaustion. Fighting was already a very intense, draining activity without the extra strain from the jumps; so he had always tried to keep his movements economical.
Previously, he would have to move in bursts that barely lasting a minute before taking breaks twice longer, with breaks getting longer with each set. This time, he could push himself for almost twice as long with a shorter break. More importantly, with each repeat, the training got longer, and the rest got shorter.
He gulped. He couldn't imagine just how impactful his stamina reward would be once it fully settled. From the previous experience, he knew it took a few days to settle properly and show full effect, which made Traits far more useful when compared to skills.
He focused on his skills as he paced the room repeated, bare feet on stone, moving as fast as he could without losing control. Even now, after practicing for weeks, the spoon felt ridiculous in his hand. Small and blunt, a horrible approximation for a spear.
He extended it in his thoughts, doing his best to imagine it as an ashwood spear, including the weight it would have, and the drag it would cause with the sudden flip…
He dodged an imaginary enemy with a half-flip, and landed on the floor silently. His feet were spread shoulder-width, his weight on the ball of his feet. One thing he figured. For any fancy move, landing was the most important part.
A wrong landing, a momentary lack of balance would all it took for an opponent to deliver a deadly strike. He flipped once again, then turned into a simple pattern. A lunge followed by a thrust, the movement starting from his back then moving to shoulder, elbow, wrist.
A straight line. No wasted flourish. A devastating delivery that would carry his full weight.
Then he started moving again.
A step forward with the thrust. A flip with the withdrawal. A jumping attack that would punch through armor as long as his spear could handle. A flip of the back of his imaginary spear, parrying the attack of an enemy trying to flank him.
He moved between two style constantly, one simple and direct, the other filled with movement and florish. Two style, opposite forms. He could feel himself getting better, but he was aware that switching between them still represented a weakness.
One that could deadly.
He continued to practice, his lungs burning with a desperate need for air despite the latest addition … but he continued to push himself. He could feel something shifting in his mind.
A quiet, dangerous kind of excitement was rising in him, like he had discovered a door where there had always been a wall that separated the two styles; one sharp and practical, the other hallow and acrobatic.
But, were they as separate as he thought. He closed his eyes, trying to open that gate. He didn't stop when he reached the wall, instead took a step, flipping flexibly, all the while his imaginary spear finding the throat of his imaginary enemy.
He moved, the bedside table representing the merciless strike of an enemy knight, which he let it slide with a gentle, elegant step that wouldn't be amiss in a dance floor, his spear flipping to crush his fingers…
As he moved, his footwork turned into a flow, the disjointed contrast of sharp, methodical steps and fancy circus moves dwindling until they turned into a steady platform, designed to support his spear…
He moved, ignoring his rebelling lungs. A square pattern around the bed, fighting imaginary enemies as he defended an unnamed beautiful lady. Forward, pivot, thrust, flip, sweep, slide…
Something clicked.
[Feat Achieved! Create your own spear style
+1x Bronze Skill Gacha ticket]
"Perfect," he muttered as he collapsed, determined to capture that feeling and commit to his memory. He was glad that the System accepted it as a style, because he could feel that it was merely a start, an idea. A lot of work had to be done until it was a real weapon that could be wielded against the knights, ideally using a real spear rather than a mere spoon.
But, it gave him a direction, one with its validity already confirmed by the divine grace of the System. All that remained was hard work, and it was one thing he had never been afraid of.
He rested his head on his bed, still sitting on the floor, breathing hard. He reached the System, activating his latest reward … and promptly got reminded why it was a bad idea to disrespect the System.
[Farming]
{Common Skill: You have extensive farming knowledge and skills that can compete with the most experienced of farmers, including how to maintain a farm, care for livestock, know how to maintain soil.}
"Please forgive me for my distraction, divine envoy of chaos and gacha," he muttered, ignoring his exhaustion as he shifted to his knees, light a candle, and started praying for forgiveness.
Still, even an useless skill like Farming couldn't ruin his mood… Like ReplyReport Reactions:DawNotHere, Kharchos, GoodOldChap and 685 othersJesse_DesireFeb 22, 2026NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 10 New View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Feb 24, 2026NewAdd bookmark#216After the eventful previous day, Rohar planned to take a few days relatively easy and focus on his technique. The temptation to reach Sansa Stark and see if he could get another ticket was there, but he refused to entertain it.
His success until this point had been about patience and information gathering. A squire famous for being womanizer was not someone that would be allowed to approach a beautiful unwed high noble, especially one that represented a potential influence over the North.
That didn't even factor in the reward. The way to get achievements were as nebulous as the meeting; some acts proving him with a reward, while the others going unremarked. He could seduce her to his bed or kill her, which were two guaranteed tickets.
But they were also two guaranteed ways to get executed, so he had no intention of touching them. Meaning, he needed to learn more about what she found significant or valuable to have any hope of getting less important tickets.
He didn't let the allure of the silver tickets to force him to act. Instead, he decided to focus on developing his new style. After his morning training, he returned to his room, determined to figure out some new attacks to his style. A plan that died almost as quickly when Podrick knocked his door, informing that Tyrion had summoned them.
"Just give me a minute," he said as he quickly changed and followed Podrick. "Any idea about what?"
"No. It was a servant that found me," he said.
Rohar nodded, feeling himself relax a little. If the message had came from a servant, it couldn't be about the mess with Shae. That was one issue he didn't want to tangle, as he had no belief that Tyrion would take his advice on the subject. Not when he was defying a death threat from his father.
A man that was not exactly known for his mercy or second chances.
Bronn was already with Tyrion when they arrived. There was an uncertain energy to Tyrion, a shuffle like he was alive, reminding him a warrior that had been challenged. His eyes were bright with something sharper than his usual weariness.
Interesting sight, he decided. He had never seen Tyrion like that.
Tyrion lifted a hand as if greeting a friend, and Rohar just nodded. "So, what's the crisis?" he asked, not bothering to be formal when they were alone.
Tyrion's mouth twitched. "Why do you think there's a crisis?" he asked.
Rohar smirked. "Well, you summoned us, yet there's not one whore in sight. And, you're merely sipping your drink instead of guzzling. Not to mention, its merely noon. For you, this count as dawn."
Bronn laughed in uproar, Podrick looked scandalized, Tyrion put his hand to his chest and acted like he was shot. "I'm wounded, my friend. And here am I, thinking I made a good impression on you?"
He responded with an even bigger smile. "I see that you're not refusing about the crisis."
"Nicely put. I have been promoted back to the small council." Rohar thought about adding a line about Tywin about reversed decision, but decided against it. Tyrion might hate his father, but an insult from another man was still a tricky issue. Instead, he stayed silent, letting Tyrion continue. "As the master of coin?"
"Why, do they think we're not spending enough money?" he asked.
Tyrion lost his battle against the laughter, and started laughing. "That's exactly what I said, but my father believes that Lannister blood somehow makes everyone good with money."
"Maybe he never met your sister," Rohar quipped.
Tyrion laughed even more. "I will pay your weight in gold to hear you say that to my father."
"Depends on whether you weight me before or after your father decapitates me," Rohar responded. "He's not exactly famed for his sense of humor … or we're not getting the way he jokes. Maybe he was just a fan of the practical jokes."
"Maybe," Tyrion said after laughing for a long time.
He thought about asking about the plan, but then he decided against it. His comments already showed his perceptiveness in a safe way. Asking questions would show ambition, and it was never a good idea. Ultimately, his value, just like Bronn, was his lack of ambition, charmed by money and luxury.
Instead, he sat down and poured himself wine.
"My father," Tyrion continued, voice light but edged, "has decided that my talents are wasted anywhere near actual authority. But he does wish me useful."
Tyrion had said father like he was drinking poison. Complicated relationship, indeed.
"Really? I thought Master of Coin is an important post? After all, it controls money."
Tyrion waved a hand as if flicking away the subject. "No, Master of Coin just finds the money for other, more important men to spend. In any case. Master of Coin means I inherit a delightful mess that was created by Robert's limitless spending, turned into a maze by Littlefinger's delightful little tricks that would take weeks just to understand."
Rohar's gut tightened. Baelish. A dangerous man, one that got scarier the more he learned about him. Apparently, his title as a noble was even smaller than he had first assumed, which meant, from the perspective of more important nobles, he was not that different from smallfolk.
For a man like that to rise up to small council, build a business that raked in impressive amount of value both in coin and in information, and stay there for years was already impressive. Then, the king died, starting a civil war where most people died … yet Baelish just continued to collect titles.
Bronn's eyes narrowed. "And it also means you need his records."
Podrick shifted. "My lord, won't he—"
"Object?" Tyrion finished for him. "No. He would have created a lot of trouble if he was demoted, but he's leaving to court Lady Aryyn for marriage. Defender of Vale, even as a regent, is a much better title than Master of Coin."
"Where are the records?" he asked, but kept his voice even, like he didn't understand the implications of Baelish's rapid promotion. However, he couldn't help but feel ambitious. If an unimportant noble could rise to such heights, why not a rat from the Flea Bottom.
Especially one with … certain advantages.
"Oh, it's a place you're familiar with. He keeps them in his office, which happens to be where your little legend is born."
"Oh, then I certainly owe the man my thanks for the care of his employees."
"Good, because I want all three of you with me. I have no idea how my enemies will react now that I'm back in the council. And I don't want to take risks."
"A good call," Bronn commented. "Only stupid men trust their enemies to not to act. And, stupid men dies easily."
Rohar said nothing else, listening their chatter before they started moving as a group. Tyrion at the center, Bronn next to him, Podrick at the front, leaving flank to him. A good setup playing to everyone's strengths.
He made sure to watch his surroundings, but his mind was already on the unique opportunity the situation provided him. Seeing Ros and Baelish together.
It was not something he would have cared if he hadn't stumbled the talk between Shae and Tyrion, with Shae claiming it was Ros that warned her about Baelish's intentions over Sansa; a detail that he would have loved to not touch, if it wasn't for one very important detail.
The ticket from Sansa was silver.
He was looking forward to see the two interact. More importantly, after sharing his bed with Ros so many times, he believed himself capable of distinguishing between her honest reactions and carefully manufactured ones.
Especially important, since if Baelish and Ros was trying to trick someone, it would be Tyrion, maybe Bronn, and not one of the two squires.
In summary, he couldn't have created a better way to gather information.
Once they arrived, they were greeted like kings, which was only to be expected considering the money Tyrion spent, not to mention both Podrick and himself had their own modest legends among the working girls.
Rohar silently followed Tyrion to Baelish's office to carry the books. Bronn was uninterested, and while Podrick could have done the task without complaint, he also had no reason to compete for it.
Not when a few girls already greeting him with a smile on their faces.
"Work comes first, ladies," he said as he nodded toward Tyrion.
"Oh, don't we know," Marla replied while the other girls laughed.
Rohar entered the office, which was occupied by Ros and Littlefinger. "Oh, we have esteemed guests," Ros called, but her gaze was mostly on Tyrion, trying to sound alluring and seductive.
Reading Ros was not easy. Her tells was subtle, impossible to catch if it wasn't for his familiarity. It wasn't apparent on her face or her eyes, but he had long noticed she had a tick, squeezing her toes subtly to keep herself focused on her act.
He had never seen Ros that tense.
"You're here for the ledgers, I suppose," Baelish said. He looked at Rohar for a moment, which was a detail he caught from the corner of his eye, but he was doing his best to focus on Ros, like he was captivated by her cleavage.
Luckily, it was an easy story to sell. Ros had an amazing cleavage.
Just like that, Baelish dismissed him, his full focus turned on Tyrion. A smart man Baelish might be, but also his full focus was on his peers, with people like Rohar too far below to care about.
It looked like Baelish didn't learn any lessons from his own rise.
Rohar did his best to look obvious to their talk.
"Yes, but I expected to meet at the keep. This is a surprising place to keep the royal ledgers."
Baelish gave Tyrion a little smug smile. "I'm surprised you're surprised. This is the safest place in the city."
"Not for bastards," Tyrion replied, and Rohar noticed Ros tensing even more, enough for it to be apparent on her face. Luckily, he was the only one looking at her, with her back turned at Baelish.
Rohar let a hint of concern slip, and Ros shook her head subtly, warning him to stay silent. He followed it. "This is all of the books, my lord," Ros interrupted, looking at Tyrion."
"Rohar," Tyrion called. Rohar acted distracted by Ros' cleavage, making sure Baelish continued to underestimate him. A supposed weakness that would make Baelish believe he had the perfect hand. "Rohar, the books," he called.
He wheeled the books away. Ros left with him. "Freshen yourself, beautiful," he said with a gentle smile.
Ros nodded, her smile of appreciation genuine. She moved away, Rohar stayed at the door, once again using his water trick to drill through the sealing wax to listen. A risk, but the value was just as great.
They didn't talk much, merely a dozen sentences, each laden with many layers, most of it he missed. However, one of them, he caught, because he was already aware of its nature. Baelish thanking Tyrion for saving Ros, but focusing on why Queen would even capture a whore thinking Tyrion had a relationship with her.
He was essentially saying that he knew about Shae, which was probably a warning to Tyrion. What Baelish wanted in exchange, he had no idea, but his best guess, he wanted Tyrion to stay silent about the money he stole from treasury once it was discovered.
There was no way a man like Baelish to leave the treasury untouched.
Tyrion left the room, Baelish stayed in his office. "Shall we return, my lord?" he asked. "It might be a good idea to prevent ledgers from getting damaged."
He was tempted to talk with Ros, but not when Baelish was at his office. There was no guarantee that Baelish wouldn't listen to someone working for Tyrion under the circumstances.
He would have to be creative when getting in contact with Ros.
"We shall, but you can stay if you want?" Tyrion said, looking at Podrick already captured by two ladies, while a few eyed Rohar.
"Tempting, but I better escort you back. We don't want anything happening to the ledgers. I'm sure Lord Baelish will be very unhappy if the evidence of his hard work got destroyed."
Tyrion laughed. "You're right. It takes a long time to write a good story. It'll be a waste if we don't give it the due respect it deserves."
With that, all of them left, though poor Podrick seemed particularly torn up leaving their attention. Rohar didn't blame him. It was a good way to spend time.
Once they returned, Podrick and Tyrion started going through the books. A silent, boring affair. Bronn sat there, drinking. So did he. Bronn didn't know how to read well enough to help, and he still acted like he didn't.
Though, even if he revealed it, he doubted it would have helped. Numbers were completely different, especially accounting books. Just taking a glimpse on the page was enough to make him dizzy.
"Do you mind if I take my leave?" he asked. "I do have a date with a certain redhead, and I much rather spend my time looking at her face rather than your ugly mugs while you go through Littlefinger's lies."
Tyrion smirked. "But, they are such interesting lies," he started, then his gaze fell on a certain line. "Oh, that motherfucker," he gasped.
"What's wrong?" Bronn asked.
"Littlefinger always claimed that he's a magician, making money dance."
Rohar shrugged. "And, I'm assuming you finally found the hidden compartment he's pulling the trick. Let me guess, your father's pocket."
"I wish, but no," Tyrion said, then paused. "Well, not entirely. The crown owes my house millions, but we already knew that. What we didn't know is the size we owe to Iron Bank."
"How much?" Rohar asked, morbidly curious. Millions of gold coins was not something he could properly imagine, let alone understand the full implications.
"I need to dig deeper, but at the first glance, at least ten millions. Maybe more."
Bronn paused. "What's the big deal."
Tyrion asked. "You don't get it?"
"Not really. I never borrowed money before. I'm not clear on the rules."
Rohar interrupted. "I have seen gamblers borrow money. When they don't pay back, their knees get broken. I'm guessing Iron Bank does something similar."
"In a way," Tyrion replied. "They will pay our enemies to break our knees instead. And, once they take the throne, they will take the debt as well."
Rohar nodded. "Sounds like a fine strategy. And, I'm sure your father wouldn't execute Baelish for borrowing from Iron Bank."
Tyrion shook his head. "No. Baelish would just blame Robert. He didn't care where his money came from, as long as he could throw his tournaments and feasts."
"Ah, good times," Rohar commented. Those feasts were the only reason he didn't starve as a child. Though, even with that, he could still see the waste. Feeding hungry orphans occasionally didn't exactly cost tens of millions of gold dragons.
"And, if you discover any irregularity?" Rohar asked, masking it as simple curiosity.
He shrugged. "Nothing. At least nothing immediately. We need Vale, and Littlefinger is the only way for that silly Tully woman to our side rather than supporting her nephew. It makes him pretty much untouchable."
Tyrion didn't seem to be happy with the idea, but he was resigned.
"Interesting, but not as interesting as looking at your ugly mugs while you read. I shouldn't keep a sexy redhead waiting. It's a sin against the nature."
"True," Tyrion laughed. "Go ahead."
At the door, Rohar stopped. "Do you want me to walk around the keep a bit, maybe approach a few random servants and a few random nobles?"
"Why?" Tyrion asked.
"For fun," Rohar replied with a smirk. "Imagine the spies of your sister and your father trying to piece out who exactly you're trying to ally yourself, and work themselves into a frenzy." Then, he paused just a touch. "It might even help them miss stuff that's right under their nose."
"Ah, a good point," Tyrion replied, his eyes widening slightly, realizing that it was a good way to keep his relationship with Shae a secret. It wouldn't have been just as good before his promotion, as it would give the others a reason to look. But, at this point, the attention from other parties was inevitable, making the distraction helpful for Tyrion.
But, it was even better for him. With Tyrion's approval, he could move around freely. A small benefit was acquiring more tickets. Though, admittedly, it was only a side benefit. There were limits to that excuse, and he couldn't simply go and talk with the Queen or Olenna Tyrell.
The real benefit was to walk around with seemingly no pattern, giving him a chance to use his Hydrokinesis to get a more accurate map of the secret tunnels, and hopefully discover one or two entrance he could actually use. Luckily, his latest trait had increased his stamina, which significantly enhanced his ability to use it without falling down in exhaustion.
It was hastier than he had planned, but with Tyrion's unexpected promotion, he decided to hasten that search.
He might need a hasty retreat earlier than he expected…
Rest of his day passed without anything notable. He walked around, using his ability to explore the walls of the castle while he approached random servants, even giving empty envelopes to a few of them who worked for some of the minor nobles with no significant connections.
Since meeting with Ros was the excuse he used, he even went and visited the brothel once more, but she was not there. He visited Kayla instead, and received a very entertaining lesson on various acrobatic techniques from running up walls to front and back flips, tips and tricks.
Tips and tricks he started implementing to his new style the moment he returned, which hastened the development of the technique significantly. But, before he could finish his training, a knock distracted him.
"Coming," he called, but not before grabbing a knife just in case. He opened the door, and a cloaked figure entered. Rohar was not alarmed.
Hood or no hood, it was impossible for him to mistake those hips.
Ros was here.
"Good evening, beautiful," he said as he squeezed her ass before he even slammed the door. It was not for pleasure … well, not just for pleasure. He could see three servants watching them while thinking themselves subtle, with possibly more he couldn't see.
"Is this the way you greet every woman that comes to visit you?" Ros said as she pulled her cloak down, her smile hiding a sharp tenseness underneath. She was not there for a social visit.
"Well…" he muttered. "Mostly, especially at this hour," he added, letting his smirk widen.
He had many questions to ask Ros, but her arrival meant that he wasn't the only one with those. And, just like their more carnal games, the ones that spoke first would surrender the advantage.
Instead of asking her why she visited him, he hugged her and started kissing her neck. She shivered, but she followed it with a frustrated growl. "Aren't you curious why am I here?"
"Oh, here I was, thinking you missed me," Rohar said, leaving no doubt about the truth. She growled and leaned forward, biting his neck playfully, but hard enough to hurt. "Fine, woman. You're not in a mood to joke. Tell me why did you visit, then," he said.
However, even as he said that, he sat on the bed, and pulled her on his lap, his hands already on her back, rubbing gently. Touching her directly, he could catch her lies far more easily.
"I wanted to talk," she said, trying to sound light and gentle rather than flirting, but she only partially managed that. She was an excellent actress, but her range was limited. Mysterious midnight visits without sweating was not her expertise.
"So, talk," he said. His voice was kind and patient, but he had no intention of taking initiative. While he waited, he used his Hydrokinesis to check if there was anyone using the listening holes his room had.
It was clear, for now.
"You're usually not this guarded," she said, which she seemed to believe, meaning she had no idea how carefully he had been playing everyone in his little, inconsequential ways.
Good.
"I'm usually not visited after midnight for what seems to be dangerous plot against someone as dangerous as Lord Baelish," he said, deciding to change the pace.
She froze. "How—"
"Woman. I visited you earlier at your own workplace twice, and you didn't take a chance to talk with me. You already manage the place. There's only one person you can't hide your secrets from there."
Not wholly accurate, but he trusted that she wouldn't focus on the alternatives.
"Fine," she said, then paused. "You're sharper than you let on," she admitted.
He chuckled. "Ros, beautiful. We both came from nothing. I have no idea how hard the life is, but stupid orphans from King's Landing don't find themselves in the employment of Heir of Casterly Rock."
She seemed unsettled at the comparison, slowly realizing that he wasn't as simple. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have admitted that much, but he not only had a good sense of Tyrion's character, but also he had access to his biggest secret, holding the life of the woman he loved.
He didn't have any intention of using that as a weapon, or even mention it openly. Sharing secrets might lead into friendship, but using them was an excellent way to make mortal enemies.
"If you're so clever, why Tyrion. Why not you find yourself a better patron?" she asked. It was not a genuine question, but just an interlude.
Too bad for her he knew exactly how to turn that into a verbal counterattack. "Because Tyrion is the only noble I would trust not to sacrifice me for a sliver of extra power."
Ros froze on his lap, trembling slightly. "Good point," she admitted, trying to sound like she was still in control. She failed, though she probably could have fooled someone else. She shuffled, letting her cloak fall open to reveal her rather revealing shirt. Not accidental.
Too bad it wouldn't give her the control she wanted. He let his hand climb up, caressing her slightly to let her believe it did to a degree.
Ros studied him, then asked, almost casually. "What do you think of Lord Baelish?"
Rohar didn't answer immediately. He acted like he pondered the question. "An object of admiration, one that climbed the stairs of powers until he surpassed everyone that underestimated him," he said, feeling Ros' panic spike. "And, I rather trust my back to a rabid dog than him. I have seen killers with more compassion in their eyes."
Admittedly, the second part was an exaggeration. Lord Baelish radiated a kind, smart, and in control aura, but he trusted him as much as he could trust a whore's declaration of love … well, when the subject was not himself. His skill gave him a certain advantage in the second part.
Ros didn't just hate Baelish, but she was actively afraid of him, which suggested that he was nowhere as nice and harmless as others believed.
Not that he would believe it. No one as nice as him could climb the stairs of power, especially in such turbulent times.
Tyrion was a good example at the opposite end. He was smart, rich, and had the Lannister name, yet he struggled to hold onto his power. His status as a dwarf held him back, but not as much as his naivety and his habit of not taking advantage of other people did.
"Too bad Lord Stark didn't share your vision," she said. "Maybe he would have been alive."
"Really, what happened?" he said.
"He trusted Littlefinger to arrange the guards while he confronted the Queen, and Litlefinger stabbed him in the back."
"Lord Stark trusted Littlefinger. Truly an … honorable man," Rohar said, not wanting to call a dead man stupid. Albeit, he clearly was.
"Yes, he was," Ros said wistfully. "A hard man, but an honorable man. Sometimes, I wish I never left North."
"Why did you?" he asked.
"Winters in North are difficult, especially for a woman with no one to trust to. Beauty is not a valuable coin during winter."
Rohar nodded. "I can respect that," he said.
Ros shuffled. "You really do, don't you?" she asked.
"Well, yes," he said. "We all try to make our way in life with the gifts we are given. Nobles have their armies and riches. I have my reflexes and my late growth spurt. You have…" he said, squeezing her breasts. "In the end, we are all struggling the same."
"Most men does not respect whores," she said.
"Most men are stupid," he replied. "It's a job like any other."
"Too bad you can't take me and escape this damnable city," she whispered. Rohar recognized the attempt to manipulate as Ros tried to exert control, but he wondered if she was aware of the honest echo in her words.
"It might not be entirely out of question," he said, deciding to take a risk. Saying that he trusted her completely was a stretch, but among everyone he knew, she was the only one that might follow him once he changed his position. "I won't stay here forever, or even for a long time."
"Really?" Ros asked. "That's all? You're trying to save money."
"Not money, but mostly true. I like Tyrion, but not enough to constantly stay in the mix. The moment I learn enough about swordplay that I don't have to fear bandits, I will resign. Maybe take a ship to Essos."
"Does it really matter?" she said.
"The world is a dangerous place for someone that doesn't know how to defend himself," he said. "A random bandit attack would kill a man just as easily. Not to mention, martial might earns respect, which is more valuable than coin when you're trying to travel alone."
She sighed. "That's a good point." She paused. "Would you really…"
"Bring you with me?" he completed. "I won't be averse to it, especially if you are willing to follow my timeline. But, not before I learn who you are truly working for. There are men that I wouldn't dare to cross."
"Like the king?" she asked.
His lips curled, but he did use Hydrokinesis once more to confirm there was no one else listening. "No, the king is easy. He holds surprisingly little power. The moment you leave the King's Landing, you're safe from him."
"How about Baelish?"
"Scary, but manageable," he said. "That man is vindictive, but he's also a pragmatist. As long as it's not something personal, he wouldn't spend too much time. True danger are men like Tywin, who would be willing to spend a considerable part of his endless fortune to assuage their pride."
"Good point," she said. She let out a sigh. "Thankfully, it's not someone as dangerous. I'm working for Varys."
Rohar paused. "Damn, girl. Do you have a taste for dangerous man?"
"Well, Varys is not as bad, actually—" she started, but Rohas did something he had never done before to silence her. He fliched her ear.
"Woman. Are you crazy? That man is even scarier than Littlefinger."
"He's just —"
"What, an eunuch?" he said. "He doesn't need a cock to fuck anyone. He's the master of whispers, and survived the demise of two kings yet still working for the third one. What part of it doesn't scream dangerous?"
Ros paused, her perspective shifting. "So did Pycelle, and he's a harmless fool."
"Pycelle has the Citadel and Tywin Lannister behind him. Do you know who is behind Varys?"
"I don't. Who?" she asked.
"I don't either. That's the point," he said. He wanted to call Ros stupid, but she wasn't the only one that underestimated Varys. Most people did for some reason, maybe equating a lack of cock with a lack of power.
Rohar had a different perspective. Maybe it was about the way he managed to enter into the Red Keep. The System granted him a lot of options, granted, but the only reason he was able to utilize them was by wading through other people's secrets. Sometimes, a nugget of knowledge was more valuable than killing a hundred of people.
In the currency of secrets, Varys was the richest man in the world.
Ros paused. "I see what you mean. He's just so kind and … harmless."
"A harmless man that somehow survives as the master of whispers," Rohar completed his sentence. "What does he want from you?"
"Information about Littlefinger," Ros replied. "But he promised to protect me?"
"How?" he said. "Did he has hidden guards at the brothel?" Ros shook her head. "What are the ways you can send him a message if Littlefinger discovers you're the one spying on him so he can save you?" Another shake of her head. "He doesn't plan to protect you," Rohar declared with confidence.
That was inevitable.
She paused, unsettled, but ultimately, she shrugs. "I still need his help."
Rohar paused once more, thinking what to do. Ros was in an even bigger peril than he expected. He thought about letting her hang with the rope she seemed to love. Not because he didn't like Ros. He genuinely did, even discounting her amazing services.
Ultimately, one thing stopped him. Sansa Stark. And silver tickets connected to her.
She was from the North, which alone would make her a valuable source of information about Sansa. No need for any big secrets. Just small nuggets of information, like information about her family or her hobbies would give him the advantage he was searching.
Then, there was the risks she was taking to save Sansa, meaning she either knew her personally, or her loyalty to Starks were strong enough. Regardless of the reason, it presented an unmatched opportunity for him. "Why? To save Sansa Stark?"
Ros froze.
"How?" she stammered.
"I overheard Shae discussing it with someone," he said. Ros tensed, her panic rising. "She's well intentioned enough to risk revealing her hand to help Sansa as well, don't get me wrong, but not exactly an ideal protector. She was lucky that I was the one listening to that particular part."
Ros' finger's found his, squeezing desperately, unsettled. He didn't enjoy her panic, but considering the game she was playing, a little panic was not the worst that could have happened to her.
Not even close.
"Will you help me?" she asked.
"First, tell me why are you trying to help her?"
Ros looked vulnerable. "I had worked in Winterfell for a long time. I still remember the bells ringing all day, celebrating her birth. She was a nice kid, kind to common folk and nobles alike. All Stark kids were, not like the nobles filling this place." She took a deep breath. "And, I'm from the North. I won't let a Stark fall into the hands of a monster like Littlefinger."
He sighed. "You know Lannisters aren't any better, right?"
Ros tensed, far too intense for it to be merely hearsay. "Yes, I know."
Rohar stopped. "Fine, I might help you," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Really?" she asked.
"I might," he repeated. "But, you need to follow my directions. The first rule, you're going to act like you have seduced me, and subverted me to help you."
"You think that's important?" she said.
"Very," he said. "It's good that you're merely supplying information to Varys and don't actually know any of his secrets, or it would have been far more difficult."
"Anything else?" she said.
"There's the issue of payment," he said.
"I'm sure I can arrange all —" she started, but he gestured her to stay silent.
"No. I work for Tyrion. Believe me, coin is not that difficult to get. More importantly, if you pay me, no one will believe you seduced me. I need you to find something that will be a nice gift to an overambitious squire naive enough to believe being a good warrior will make him a noble. I need material on fighting."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "What kind of material?"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "Drawings about sword fighting, spears, even hand to hand fighting from Essos. It doesn't even have to be complete. Scraps are enough. The aim is to tell a valid story."
She paused. "Why?" she asked.
"Why am I helping?" he asked. "I mentioned that I don't want to live in King's Landing forever. Essos is a good direction, but … tell me what the Starks will reward me if I save their precious daughter and bring her back to North?"
Her eyes widened as she finally realized his ambition. "Money, honors, maybe even a small castle."
"Exactly. As a bonus, unlike Lannisters, I will be able to trust my liege lord to not to stab me in the back."
Rohar knew the promise to save Sansa from Lannisters were more aspirational than anything else, but it was a good way to ensure Ros' loyalty. After all, he needed her to tell everything about Sansa to ensure her 'safety' which would return him in tickets.
Not to mention, he had no idea what kind of rewards he would receive from the System. Maybe it was not even as far-fetched as he feared.
"We can't risk her life," Ros responded after a long silence. That made Rohar chuckle. Ros looked at him, for the first time, truly angry. "That's not a laughing matter."
Rohar raised a hand in surrender. "It kind of is, but not the way you think. What do you think they'll do to Sansa if she tries to escape."
"Well…" Ros muttered pausing.
"Nothing," Rohar said. "A slap at the wrist, maybe they'll stop letting her go to garden for a week or two. She's too valuable of a chip to damage. We're the ones that will be killed and tortured."
Her eyes widened at the reminder of the risk they would be taking. "Right… And you're willing to take that risk."
He shrugged. "I'm already taking it. Tyrion had already been targeted by assassinations. With his promotion, another one will arrive. Who can guarantee I'll survive it." She looked unsettled. "Ros, I want to live. Not just survive as a street rat, one bad war away from being slaughtered in the streets like a dog. And, it means taking risks."
Ros held his gaze, as if she was trying to see through him. He didn't hid anything, as while he had fibbed some of the details, the core was honest. He didn't want to live as a nobody. He wanted to save Sansa for rewards.
Though, those rewards would be arriving from a mysterious divine source rather than Starks, who had more important things to worry about.
"I believe you," she said.
"Good —" he said, but then he noticed something and cut immediately.
During their talk, he had been using his Hydrokinesis to check if there was anyone listening to them. Someone was approaching to that spot slowly. He didn't want to take a risk.
"We're about to have a spy listening. Play the role. You're in the middle of seducing me, don't mention employer, be vague about what you want, and promise me those books openly," he said.
After all, why not use the opportunity to let others the best way to bribe him?
Ros opened her mouth, then closed it. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to process everything that happened. She stayed silent for a few seconds, but when she opened her eyes, Ros the whore was back.
"Come on, handsome. What's the harm sharing a few tidbits. It won't harm anyone, and there are many people that pays gold for secrets…" As she said that, she quickly shed her clothing, and he copied it before he lay on his back.
She mounted him, riding him gently. It was not her best acting performance, but that didn't affect the dance of her hips the slightest. Still, it would be more than enough to trick a spy.
Or multiple spies, he decided, because soon after the first one left, another arrived, then another… All along the night, eight spies visited them, and Rohar made sure that each spy had captured the general outline of the situation, and whenever there was no listener, he questioned Ros about Sansa; trying to learn as much as possible.
He learned a lot.
Altogether, his plan seemed to work better than he expected.
[Feat Achieved! One stone, many birds. Leverage a situation to play multiple parties
+1x Silver Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, silver ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
He was in a good mood when he woke up. It was difficult not to feel that way when he spent all night with Ros. She was always a pleasant company, and if he was being honest, the danger from playing several different group of spies at the same time made it even more exciting.
Then, he woke up to a knock at the door, and received a small chest filled with various books and drawings about combat sent by Ros, showing how fast she could work. The fact that those were delivered by Kayla and Marloon, and they stayed for an hour before leaving, made it even better.
[Novice Cooking]
{Common Skill: You are a novice in the culinary arts, you can cook most basic meals and they will taste good. But don't expect to get a job as a chef.}
The only fly in the ointment was the reward from the bronze ticket, but even that was not horrible. He planned to travel, and the ability to prepare his own non-disgusting food would keep him from getting poisoned.
He didn't left his room immediately. One underrated benefit of working for Tyrion, skipping a day of work because he partied with whores was not only accepted, but also celebrated.
Too bad he couldn't continue working for him. But as long as Tyrion stayed in the capital, it would be beneficial.
He stayed inside for most of the day, acting like he had been sleeping. Instead, he went through every single material Ros had provided, reading them with a fervor, particularly anything relating to spear and hand-to-hand combat.
Too bad most of the material was about sword mastery. Still useful, but nowhere as near valuable as the other two. The temptation to work on his spear was there, but he decided to focus on hand-to-hand.
It was a deliberate choice. He took a great risk and dipped his toes into the noble plots. Most of the players seemed to be happy watching each other without acting, but there was no guarantee that it would held true for him.
He liked living too much to trust the consistency of nobles who were thinking themselves as clever.
The material she provided on hand-to-hand was limited, mostly written in different languages, but it didn't matter. Just the drawings of various people fighting was enough to give him an inspiration, allowing him to practice in a way he could feel his Kung Fu skill getting engaged.
It would have been much better with a sparring partner, but even without it, he was feeling himself getting better. Especially since, instead of trying to create a coherent style like his spear, he just focused on learning every drawing as well as he could.
Since it would be a secret weapon, variety would be far better than the expertise. At least for the moment.
Once he finished putting over, he picked two of the scrolls that looked closer to his sword style, and went to find Podrick.
"Rough night?" Podrick asked once he saw him, standing guard in front of Tyrion's door.
"Very fun night, but rough morning," he said. "Ros is a sore loser, sending for reinforcements when I'm already tired. Not that I need to tell you how competitive girls can be."
Podrick blushed at his words. For a man that had his own growing legends about his bedroom prowess, he was shockingly shy. Making fun of him was a favorite hobby for Rohar.
"What's the book?" Podrick said, though his enthusiasm had more to do with changing the topic.
"A gift from Ros. I mentioned that I wanted to learn more styles, and she arranged them for me. But, I need your help reading it," he said, still wanting to hide his ability to read as long as possible. "Maybe teach me how to read as well. I believe it will be useful in my new career."
"Sure, we can do that," Podrick said. "It's not like we have anything to do but wait. Bronn is inside, and Tyrion is going through the books."
"Littlefinger's big book," Rohar commented, smirking. Podrick read the descriptions, and they started practicing the moves. Some of the moves and suggestions were garbage, while others seemed surprisingly useful.
Not that they would help, at least not until he could get a blade skill as a reward as well. A good way to show off Ros' gift.
However, the real benefit came late at night, when Tyrion chased off Bronn for no reason. He didn't say anything to him or Podrick, but even from the distance, Rohar recognized his expression.
Anticipation mixed with fear. Shae was about to visit Tyrion.
And, considering the time, he suspected Shae had just sneaked out rather than arranging someone else to stay with Sansa.
An opportunity.
He returned to his room, and left again soon after, acting slightly drunk as he went to visit the kitchen. It wasn't the first time he got some late night snack there, nor he was the only squire that had the same idea.
He slipped through the kitchen corridors, past servants carrying bread and pots and gossip, and reached a particular alcove at a moment when it was empty. No servants. No observers.
He leaned against the wall, his fingers found the seam, and a latch came down, opening a secret entrance, thin enough that he barely slipped in. Then, he found himself wrapped in darkness.
He didn't light a torch. He didn't need it, not when he could use his Hydrokinesis and his near-perfect balance to move silently. However, to take a precaution, he still pulled on a cloak.
He wasn't armed by a spear, which was a pity, but that would have been too suspicious to bring with him. He had to hope that anyone that he came across, his blade would be enough … but if not, he trusted himself to run away fast.
Tunnels were very friendly to a man of his skills.
The tunnels were complicated, but he had already scouted the necessary parts, and he moved. Thrice, he had to hide when he saw a glow of a lamp or a torch, showing that at night, the secret tunnels were more active than he expected.
At least it meant they weren't covered with dust.
The tunnel ran straight for a while, then split. He felt the hollow branches like veins. One angled toward Sansa's room, the other going even deeper. He moved even slower, careful with his footing, and stopping after every ten steps to use his Hydrokinesis to get a better sense of his immediate area.
It was not an area he explored for long. Luckily, once he found Sansa's room, he met with a surprise. There was a secret door directly leading to the room … likely the same door Shae had been using to leave, using the other entrance in Tyrion's room to enter.
Rohar slipped inside like a thief. If Sansa shouted in panic, everything would be ruined.
He saw her sitting in front of a small window, looking at the sky. She was nineteen years old, but she looked even older at the moment, her pain making her look mature. He felt bad about what he was about to do, but he had no other choice. He sneaked behind her, and pressed his hands to her mouth.
Her panic was intense and understandable.
[Feat Achieved! Terrorize Sansa
+1x Silver Random Gacha ticket]
An unexpected reward, though he was shocked at the context. "My lady. Please relax. I won't hurt you. I'm here to help you. I'm hired by loyal people of North."
She stopped struggling, but he could see her reaching for a blade, so he grabbed her wrist gently with one hand, the other still on her mouth.
"My lady. If you promise not to shout, I will not only let you take the knife, but also let you put it against my chest while I deliver my explanation. Do we have a deal?"
She paused for a long moment, then nodded.
He pulled back, and deliberately gathered his hands to his back, pushing his chest out. It wasn't as risky as it sounded. The knife in question wasn't sharp enough that someone could just push it in, at least not with the strength her thin arms had.
Still, he stayed immobile while she pressed the knife against the center of his chest, a particularly bad spot to hurt anyone. Then, she reached to his hood, and pushed back. "You!" she gasped in shock. Luckily, she didn't shout. "You work for Lannisters."
"Correction, my lady. I entered Lannister's employ to be able to access the Red Keep. All to be able to contact you."
She paused, examining him with surprisingly alluring eyes. He tried his best to keep his gaze on her eyes and not look at her body. It was hard, as she was a beautiful woman, just a year older than him, her assets showing the famous Tully qualities. Her relatively thin nightie didn't help.
"How can I trust you?" she asked.
"Depends on what part. I think I can prove I was sent by Northerners, ones that lived in Winterfell."
"How?" she asked.
"For example, I know Robb's favorite dessert was cherry pie, that your half-brother Jonn always helped Arya escape her lessons, or every tenday, Master Ludwig held a public lecture for farmers to increase their yield."
"What else?" she asked.
He rapidly went through the list of casual details Ros had shared with him. "It's not a guarantee, of course, but you need to ask yourself. If I wanted to harm you, why would I bother learning all of it, or put myself in such a vulnerable position."
"You're right," she said, but she seemed to dislike admitting it. "Why are you here. You told me you want to help. How?"
"That depends on your wishes, my lady. I'm willing to do anything you ask as long as it's not completely suicidal like spitting Tywin Lannister's face."
"Why?" she asked.
"Let's just say the new king doesn't go around creating loyal subjects," he said. "Not to mention, it's not fair for you to live away from your family, imprisoned after a horrible betrayal."
For a heartbeat, Rohar saw the mask wobble. The composed lady was gone, replaced by a scared young woman. The mention the king impacted her even more. Understandable, considering some of the detail Ros shared about the King's tastes.
Creepy fucker.
He said nothing, letting her recover. She stayed like that for a while, then she swallowed, and her expression hardened again.
"That isn't something you should say," she whispered.
Rohar nodded. "Probably not. But, considering my presence alone would earn me an execution, it wouldn't make too much difference. What is he going to do, execute me twice?"
She didn't find the joke as funny.
"What if I ask you to bring me away from here," she asked.
He nodded. Considering merely scaring her gave another silver ticket, he was more than ready to help her escape. Especially since no one would expect him to just swim away with her.
Endless stamina and hydrokinesis was a shockingly amazing combination. All he needed was to sneak into a boat, everything would be done. "That's already the plan, but unless you believe there's a risk to your life or health, we need to make some preparations."
"How long?" she asked.
"Two weeks? A month at most," he promised. Not as much as he preferred, but he could see impatience radiating from her. Any longer, and it would sound like empty claims.
She paused. "How can I trust you?" she said.
A good point. He needed a proof. "Ask me something that someone loyal to Lannisters would never do. It will be a proof. Just don't forget, no suicide clause, so no offing that little blond monster. It would be enjoyable, but I want to continue living."
"How about just killing Meryn Trant instead?" she asked.
Her tone was light and dismissive, clearly thrown there just as an example. He paused, considering him as a target, and found him surprisingly easy. Even among the new crop of kingsguards, he was one of the weaker ones, with a predicable schedule. With his ability to use the tunnels, he would be an easy prey.
Risky, but at this point, he already committed to a risky path. "Deal, but I have a condition of my own."
"What?" she asked.
"I'm going to tell you never reveal my identity and presence to a certain man, and you need to follow that, or I'll get killed," he explained.
"Who?" she asked.
"Baelish," he said. She opened her mouth to argue, but he gestured her to stay silent. "I know he has been contacting with you, offering you to bring you away, and you feel like you can trust him." Her eyes widened. "Yeah, he's not as sneaky as he thinks he is. His plans are already seen through by at least three other parties."
"Still it's not a reason not to trust him," she said.
"True, failure is not a sin. I can give you a hundred reason why not to trust him, but you can always claim that I'm lying. Instead, I'm going to ask you a question." She nodded. "He had told you that he helped your father until the situation was desperate, right?" She nodded again. "Then, ask yourself. What exactly he did to gain Lannister support to such a degree that they are rewarding him with a position of Lord Paramount. Would Lannisters ever trust a man that once tried to betray them?"
She froze.
"Do you know what happened in the Red Keep when your father went to arrest the Queen, with numerical advantage, only to end up captured?"
"I …" she muttered.
"There's no man that had benefited more from your father's death than Baelish," he reminded her. "Imagine what else he could do if he has you as his prisoner to threaten your brother and your mother."
The last bit was a nice touch, he believed. Sansa clearly missed her family, and positioning Baelish as a possible threat was the perfect way to put some distance. It would help even better since Baelish couldn't access to Sansa casually and remove her doubts.
"You're free to believe or disbelieve it," he said. "Just know that if you mention me to Baelish, you'll never see me again, because I'll be dead. If you decide to ignore my advice and question him about those stuff directly, just offhandly mention that it was one of the Tyrells or one of the Lannisters that mentioned it."
"I'll think about it," she said, which was not entirely shocking.
"Fine, just keep your ears about Trant's death. You'll probably hear about it in a day or two, a week at most."
She gulped, feeling queasy. But, beneath that, he could see her burning with a sharp fury. He didn't ask what Trent did to her, because he remembered Bronn quipping Trent about beating women when they first met.
It fit well enough.
Then she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Not trust. Not friendship.
Just a chance. One to prove himself, a silent cry for help from a young woman that had been betrayed too many times to feel any hope.
She was lucky that Rohar actually wanted to help her.
Well, after a fashion.
"Do we have an accord, Lady Sansa," he asked. "Trent's head, in exchange for your discretion and trust."
"Deal," she declared.
He stood up, then respectfully knelt in front of her. Ros had mentioned that she had been obsessed by Southern knight culture. "I won't disappoint you, Lady Sansa. I might not be officially a knight, but I vow on my honor that I will see you safely out of the King's Landing."
"I hope so, Ser Rohar," she responded, her tone softening at the declaration. It seemed that her dreams about knights and honor were yet to die even after everything.
Rather naive of her, but he wasn't complaining.
He was about to tease her more, but his movement finally reminded her that she was wearing only her nightie. It was a modest one, but still not fit for mixed company. Especially not with her curves making it sexier than the tailor had intended.
"I will take my leave then, milady," he said instead, turned and left, leaving her blushing behind.
[Feat Achieved! Make Sansa develop a small crush on you
+1x Bronze Random Gacha ticket]
Huh. Another easy ticket.
He was starting to like Sansa more and more.
Despite his elation, he didn't rush back using the tunnels, making sure every step was steady and careful. And, once he was safely back to his room, he started praying, once again wishing for the grace of divine chaos and gacha.
[Intermediate Medicine]
{Uncommon Skill: You are as skilled as a doctor, possessing a variety of medical knowledge and skills in treating injuries, illnesses and problems as well as familiarity with the body and medicine as well as its applications.}
The bronze one gave him an amazing reward. Not immediately useful, but the idea that he could develop some medical competency was tempting. Accessing decent healers was never an easy thing. Nobles had their maesters to help, rich and powerful might get some doctors that had been rejected from the Citadel but still capable enough. For everyone else, it was a roll of dice.
Then, there was the other issue. Poisons. The more important of a player he got, the more people would target him with unusual means. Even many nobles died to poison.
At least getting his hands on medical books would be easy. Unlike martial abilities where books were merely a curiosity, material on healing or poison was common. The real problem was to discern whether it was a lie or truth; something his skill would solve.
[Adept Conceptualization]
{Rare Skill: Conceptualization is your ability to understand what is beyond the mundane and inexplicable. With this level, your mind probably won't be shattered by hearing the old ones whisper. Magic and Esoteric make more sense to you when you see them, you understand, learn, and develop magic more easily and have a better time understanding the mystical side of reality.}
The reward from silver was far more complicated. Potentially even more useful … yet utterly useless as long as he was in King's Landing; or even seven kingdoms.
The possibility to understand the mysteries of magic was tempting … only he had no idea how effective it would be. The world had magic, but not at a sufficient amount; or he wouldn't have been receiving constant low-magic warning with every valuable ticket.
Maybe Essos would have more magic…
However, regardless of any factors, it was not a thing he would teach as long as he was in King's Landing. He couldn't go around buying or asking for magic books.
He couldn't survive the attention it would bring…
Being known as a reckless whoremonger had its benefits, Rohar decided. For example, no one even questioned why a squire was leaving the Red Keep right before supper. Not particularly important at the moment, but it would be once the news about Ser Meryn Trent's unfortunate demise spread.
A demise that was yet to occur.
Figuring out Trent's habits didn't take long. He didn't even have to search. He just needed to ask Ros, something she was happy to assist when she learned it was Sansa that wanted that assassination.
Merely two days had passed since the request, and he was ready to act.
He once again arrived at the familiar brothel, stayed at the lobby to flirt for a bit, and then left to his room, with three beautiful girls in tow. Soon, they were unconscious as usual, unfortunately, this time, it had little to do with his amazing bedroom skills, and everything to do with wine Ros arranged, laced with a mild sedative, which, combined with the physical exertion, put the girls down quickly.
"I have only an hour," he muttered once the last girl was safely unconscious, as he reached to the bottom of the bed, changed his clothes, and pulled a thick, hooded black cloak, and a short spear.
Asking Ros for a spear was a risk, but not as much risk as openly agreeing on helping Sansa, or ask about Trent's routine. The only reason the latter was there, because she didn't have to act. It was just one of the nuggets of information Littlefinger had collected just in case.
Just one from a treasure trove, he realized. As the manager of the brothel, Ros had to go through the information that was collected before reporting it to him, meaning she knew a lot about King's Landing, which added a new layer to their private time; allowing them to mix business with … well, technically even more business, but the pleasurable kind.
He changed his clothes, grabbed his spear, and left his room through a secret tunnel, appearing in an empty house two hundred yards away. Then, he was off to the streets. But, he didn't immediately moved to find Trent, knowing he had a margin of time.
He stopped halfway to pick some clothes, left his spear temporarily, and visited Flea Bottom. A little touch to his hair, a shift to his posture, he was once again a mere street rat. But, as he walked, he couldn't help but sigh. It wasn't long ago that he was just another young man, struggling to survive.
But, he didn't have time to reminisce. He had other things to do.
His direction, a stretch called butcher's yard. Not actual butchers, but a place where a group of healers and other medical people gathered, though he didn't dare to call them experts.
If they were experts, the area wouldn't be known as the butcher street.
"My master is sick. He ordered me to buy any book I can find on poisons and healing," he explained. But, when he saw the greed on the man's face, he shifted his posture, and a dagger flicked into his fingers, too fast for him to react. Suddenly, he wasn't a street rat, but a dangerous warrior,
"Believe the excuse, take the money, and give me the books," he warned him. "That's better for you."
The man who believed himself to be a healer nodded in panic, gave him a small pile of books that reminded him garbage, and looked at the silver coins in his hand with dazed expression. Twenty silver was overpay, but at this point, he didn't care about a few silvers.
He repeated the same trick a few more times, and left Butcher's street with a pile of books, and a small group following him. A group that he ditched with ease. All he needed was to take a turn to a dead end road, use his agility to climb to a roof rapidly, then jump three of them to land another empty stretch.
He didn't carry the books with him, but hid them. Living in the Flea Bottom for so long, he knew exactly where to drop them, though he took two books with him, one on healing the other on poisons. But, since he didn't have time to go over them, he just picked two that seemed most comprehensive and beginner friendly, and trust his skill for the rest. Other books, he would try to reach later.
He deliberately chose to buy them by himself rather than trying to steal from the royal library, because at this point, he didn't even know what to steal. More importantly, library was a spot that would be watched by every spy, meaning he couldn't browse leisurely. Not when he was supposed to be illiterate.
With the books hidden, he went to his other hiding spot, once again changing into his black cloak, spear in hand, and started waiting for Trent.
Trent's destination was a brothel, but a dubious one. Not because it was cheaper — though it was, showing that King's Guard didn't pay as well as Tyrion — but because it served to clients with darker tastes.
And, a road leading to such a place was never too crowded, nor people paid attention to things such as mysterious dark figures at the roof. He waited for Trent to arrive, who soon appeared.
He wasn't wearing his official armor, changing into a thick leather that would still work against most attacks.
Just not the one that coming from the sky, carrying his full weight. He fell on Trent as a whisper, a dangerous position if he was noticed. Luckily, Trent was not as careful as he was supposed to be, and he didn't reacted it fast enough. Worse, instead of throwing himself to the side, he tried to react to his blade.
The first reflex of any knight … and in his case, his last mistake.
[Feat Achieved! Kill a Kingsguard
+1x Gold Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, gold ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
[Feat Achieved! A beating for a beating
+1x Silver Radom Gacha ticket]
A perfect job.
Double reward.
He could have stayed there for long, but he did not. He merely reached to his pouch, but instead of picking the money, he cut it, spreading the money. It was less than he expected, merely silver, but still enough for the scavengers to dig around.
While the shouts for guards started, he ran away. Two streets in, he jumped to the rooftop, reversing direction twice, and halfway in, he broke the spear, throwing the wooden part into fire, and ditched the spearhead in the garbage.
He switched his clothes twice, making sure no one could see the mysterious assassin disappearing into richer parts, and returned to his room at the brothel using the same secret entrance.
Success, he muttered as he used the basin in the room to wash the sweat and grime, buried himself with the girls, and started the first book on healing. It was not something he would have dared to do before, but he was getting pretty good with his Hydrokinesis enough to know when he was being watched and when he was not as long as he was in an enclosed space, so the risk was there.
He even found some chance to pray before pulling the rewards. For a moment, he stopped to wonder if doing so was a sacrilege, but then he remembered just how many rewards he had received from the same establishment.
It was clearly not an issue.
Rewards confirmed it. Though, with a certain bias.
[Adept Massage]
{Rare Skill: You are as skilled as a seasoned masseuse, being able to give a variety of massages that help get rid of exhaustion, recover stamina, revitalize the body and mind and even invoke sexual pleasure. Few would leave the massage bed unsatisfied.}
He didn't even have to think about what kind of benefits he would receive from massage talent, considering how much it helped. Especially since he was getting in contact with noble ladies, and tricks from Kama Sutra skill weren't exactly usable. They were amazing and effective, but subtle, they were not.
But, the real gem was the reward from the bronze ticket.
[Intermediate Polearm Mastery]
[Intermediate Polearm Mastery (3/3)]
{Skill Upgraded}
[Adept Polearm Mastery]
{Rare Skill: You are very talented at wielding polearms, on the level of a veteran spearsman. You are able to effectively wield any polearm such as spears, sickles and halberds with great efficiency and finesse.}
Perfect, he thought as he read the description. Having an adept skill meant that the upper limit of his rapid development was raised, but it was not the only benefit. From the experience with the other skills, he had learned that a higher rank allowed him to learn significantly faster.
And, with the risks he faced continuing to escalate, a better fighting ability was never amiss. He didn't expect to match true experts even if he could bring his skill to the peak of adept … but then, he didn't need to. If he somehow in a fair duel with the Kingslayer or legendary Ser Barristan, he had screwed spectacularly.
He hummed, ignoring the desire to stand up and practice his spear skills, and continued to read his book until the first girl started stirring. He hid the tome back, put his hands on her back, and started rubbing.
His polearm mastery wasn't the only skill that needed to be trained, after all.
&&&
He returned to the Red Keep late morning. No one stopped him despite the rapid movement around him. Why should they? After all, Trent had been slain at the other end of city, with three witnesses that were ready to swear about his presence, and he had no connection with the dead.
He suspected at least half of his preparations were for nothing, but he didn't regret it. The only weak point was Ros, but that would have been the case even without knowing he had slain Trent.
It was better for Ros to know, as it would make her trust him even more. He wasn't afraid of her betrayal, but trust was not a singular thing. It had layers. For example, he trusted Tyrion to not to sell him for his benefit, but he didn't trust him not to abandon him if Tywin ordered.
It wasn't even a judgment on Tyrion's character. In his place, Rohar wouldn't have been as kind.
"What's with the people running around?" he asked Podrick once they met for training.
Podrick lowered his tone to conspirational whisper. "There's no official news, but people are saying a kingsguard had been killed last night."
He made show of opening his eyes. "Really? At the Keep?"
"No, out in the city. I don't know who it is , but… they are saying it was an ambush by thugs."
"Interesting," he said, then lashed with his blade before Podrick could react, delivering a solid hit. "My point."
"You cheated," Podrick gasped.
"What would Bronn say?"
"As long as you're on the field, the spar goes on," Podrick said, copying Bronn's lazy cadence surprisingly well.
"Add in two swear words, and it'll be perfect—" Rohar replied, stopping to parry Podrick's attempt to repeat the trick. "A good attempt, but you're telegraphing it too much."
"How?" Podrick asked.
"Your eyes," Rohar replied. "You always look where you're about to attack directly. It makes an ambush useless."
"And, how I am supposed to—" he started, interrupted by another blow. "I see, like that—" he tried to complete, interrupted by another blow. "You'll pay for it," he said, and launched a relentless assault, putting his full strength to his blows, though he was smiling.
Sparring with Podrick was fun, which was why he was doing his best to fix some of his biggest mistakes. Not in terms of sword technique where Podrick was still much better, but in terms of awareness.
The last thing he wanted was to lose one of the few friends he had in a simple ambush like the one Trent had died to.
After training, he was returning to his room, but halfway in, three Lannister guards cut his path in an empty spot. He tensed, considering what he had been doing the last night, but then he paused.
If it had been about suspecting him for killing a Kingsguard, he wouldn't have been accosted in the shadows while he had been out in the open. "May I help you, gentleman," he said, doing his best to look relaxed.
"The Queen summons you, peasant," one of the soldiers growled with fury.
That gave him pause, wondering if it was good news or bad news. He leaned toward the latter end. Despite living in the Red Keep, there wasn't many gossiping about the Queen openly, meaning his only two sources had been Ros and Tyrion. Ros told him about her, but considering Ros had been falsely imprisoned and tortured by Cersei, he expected some bias.
Somehow, Tyrion hated her sister even more, meaning his understanding of the Queen incredibly slanted. But, not necessarily lies, as both Ros and Tyrion were surprisingly good in assessing people.
It meant, while he couldn't trust their picture completely, he still had to use. Some facts like her being extremely prideful was well established, but was she truly reckless … well, considering the prevalent rumors about the true parentage of her children, reckless was also true.
He had to play it carefully.
Still, as he walked, he was glad that he had spent some time training his unarmed skills. He wouldn't fancy his changes against a prepared enemy, but if they were overconfident, things would be different. The Queen's room would almost certainly have a secret entrance, which could be used to escape.
As far as last resorts went, it was a decent one.
The Lannister guards said nothing as they brought him to the Queen through one of the restricted corridors, occupied only by people in Lannister colors. At the entrance, they departed, leaving him with the gate guards.
"Raise your arms," the gate guard ordered.
"Of course. There's also a hidden dagger in my boots, and a small one in my sleeve. Don't miss them."
"You're volunteering them?" the guard asked, seemingly surprised.
A stupid question. His situation was complicated enough without being blamed for trying to assassinate the Queen. But, at that moment, he faced a choice. He was sure that the Queen could hear him from inside, because the door was cracked open. Clearly intentional.
He had two options, fear or admiration. Both would play to her well-documented pride and ego.
It was time to see if she was as gullible and overconfident as Tyrion claimed.
"Of course. I have been honored by her summons," he said, sounding offended and starstruck. "Do you think I would disrespect my liege lady by bringing a weapon to her presence."
The guard didn't react to his exaggerated declaration, which didn't matter. He was not the audience.
"Once you enter, stay away from the Queen, and never interrupt her. Don't forget that we're at the other side of the door, ready to kill you with one order."
The only thing that Rohar took from the warning was that he would be alone with the Queen. Interesting choice.
He entered, and saw the Queen sitting on a chair, a wine glass in hand and a confident posture. Despite the great differences, he could see the familiarity between her and Tyrion in mannerism.
But, since he didn't want to be executed, he kept that little detail to himself. He could imagine how Tyrion would react to that comment, and he didn't want to test the Queen quickly.
He knelt right at the entrance instead, pushing his acting talents until he radiated excitement that he seemed to suppress somewhat. "M-my Queen," he said, his tone strong and baritone, but with just a small hitch to underline his excitement.
"So, you're the stray that my brother picked from the streets," she commented, disdain radiating from her.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Cersei Lannister
+1x Gold Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, gold ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
He didn't mind. "Lord Tyrion decided I make a fitting guard for a man of his … stature," he said, letting a hint of disdain slip, giving her the impression that he disliked Tyrion.
"And, you don't mind working for him?" she asked, suddenly eager, confident that she had caught a weakness.
Rohar paused, wondering if she was really that arrogant. She seemed to be. There was a risk that she was pulling a double-bluff, which would have been his initial assumption without the double briefing. In the end, despite their inherent bias, he decided to trust Tyrion and Ros.
"For a lowborn like me, working for the Lannister family is more than I could have even imagined, my Queen," he said.
"Lannister family, not Tyrion," she said smugly, and he made a show of flinching. "Not a surprise that he deals with a fellow whoremonger."
He faked discomfort. Her hatred in the last word was clear. Considering King Robert was famous for his taste for whores, he decided to distract her. "It's overblown, my lady," he said. "Since Lord Tyrion enjoys the visits, I have to go with him."
From the corner of his eyes, he could see her gaze tightening. "Oh, that's it. But I heard they were very happy with your services."
He pivoted quickly. "Yes, my Queen. However, there's a small misdirection there. The service they enjoy is not the one most men think."
"Oh," she said, intrigued, taking the bait too easily.
"I had a late growth spurt, my Queen. Before that, I was small and feeble, so they allowed me to work in a bathhouse. There, I learned how to be a masseuse. The women in the brothel appreciate taking a break from their work to get massage, especially since they are still getting paid."
"Oh," she repeated. "Show me your talents, then. If you're lying, I will get you executed."
"If I ever lie to you, my Queen, I deserve it," he replied, letting awe and devotion fill his voice. He waited her to summon a servant.
She stood up and walked to the next room, slid her dress down to reveal her naked back, and lay on her bed instead.
Well, that was a way to test his skills, he presumed.