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Two lunatics went around hunting bandits. But they didn't kill the bandits. They tortured them, drank their blood, and sacrificed them to an evil demon.
The legend had started to spread, but it wasn't far from the truth.
Wylis and Qyburn did go a little overboard with their experiments. It wasn't easy to teach Qyburn about every organ in the body and its workings. A lot of not-so-poor bandits died for those classes. Still, Wylis had enough decency to only do human testing on the bandits who moonlighted as rapists and murderers.
Already, Wylis had killed a hundred bandits he needed to. But to teach Qyburn, he kept going a little further. Heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, intestines, eyes, they cut them out and then patched them back, trying to see if the bandit would heal fully with that operation.
By then, germ theory was a fact to Qyburn. They had already come across a village with a cholera outbreak, a disease that Wylis named since they had none. Sure enough, the source was the village well, as the nearby pond, likely connected to the well in some way, had a dead, rotting pig in it.
Further, Wylis did human experiments. He cut one bandit with a dirty, feces-covered knife, and the other bandit with a clean, sterilized knife. Sure enough, the one cut by a dirty knife got severely infected.
Afterward, they even helped a village woman through childbirth. They had already started their travel towards King's Landing when they came across the case. They were staying in the village inn for the night and learned that the babe was stuck and the midwives couldn't bring out the babe.
That night became the first obstetric surgery in Westeros, and Wylis was the surgeon while Qyburn was his student. He almost caused a riot when he offered to cut open the woman's belly.
But in the end, the husband agreed with tears in his eyes. Because doing nothing would kill both while doing something might save one of them.
However, Wylis ended up saving both the woman and the child. Using chloroform that he and Qyburn had made with great effort, he relieved the woman's pain to a degree with a semi-conscious state.
It was messy, and a first-time experience for Wylis. He succeeded, but he made notes to commission some special tools for obstetric surgery from King's Landing's finest blacksmiths.
Late at night, the wails of a baby boy made the entire village cheer in joy. As for the woman, Wylis stitched her up using silk threads he and Qyburn had been using on bandit experiments. But since those stitches weren't soluble like in modern times, he stayed behind in the village and waited for the woman to heal so he could remove the stitches as well.
He didn't hate it. The villages fed him so much meat, eggs, and milk that he felt like a fat king.
Eventually, with four sacks filled with salted and preserved skulls of bandits, Wylis and Qyburn headed for King's Landing for good. It was lunacy, pure insanity what they were doing. Especially Wylis.
Killing bandits was one thing. But roaming half the realm with severed skulls was too much. Sadly, that was what the current King enjoyed the most. Madness was entertainment, and Wylis was tasked with bringing that entertainment to the King.
Traveling along the Rose Road, passing through Kingswood, they eventually neared King's Landing. The foul stench in the air was noticeable even from outside the city.
"If the air itself can bear such a stench, then surely it carries more than one foul element," Qyburn remarked thoughtfully.
"Aye, it's more than just air, that's for certain," Wylis said, having talked about nothing but basic science and medical knowledge the entire way. "I'll make my way into the Red Keep. You can find a room in Eel Alley for now."
Wylis handed Qyburn some coins for use.
"Be wary, Wylis. The King's Court is far from what it once was. The maesters whisper of the King's madness—fire flickers in the halls, and screams haunt the corridors."
"Worried about me?" Wylis chuckled.
"To let such learning die unspoken... that would be a greater sin than how it was earned."
Chatting, they soon reached the King's Gate. The Goldcloaks guarding there waved at Wylis with big smiles, as if he were a household name there. He didn't have to stand in line this time and gained entry right away.
Wasting no time, Wylis rode through the Street of Steel, then into the Hook, and then entered Eel Alley, where he helped Qyburn get a decent room. Although the Red Keep was close by, Wylis rode north into the city and reached the East Barracks.
From there, he grabbed the old sacks of bandit heads he had left there. Thankfully he had bought a lot of salt to keep them from smelling foul, although rotting was impossible to stop.
The Goldcloaks were angry at him and were about to throw away the heads if he had taken another week.
But finally, Wylis rented a wooden cart from a small shop, loaded all the sacks with a total of one hundred and five skulls, tied it to Caliburn, and rode towards the Red Keep. Taking the main road of the Street of Sisters, and then taking a left turn, he went straight to the main entrance of the Red Keep, featuring massive bronze doors, a portcullis, and a side postern.
Wylis halted in front of the closed doors as the Goldcloaks raised their hand towards him.
"Greetings, men. Just on my way to the King's side. He bade me, and I've done right by him—one hundred and five bandits dead, their heads in tow," Wylis declared with pride and overbearing confidence.
The five or so Goldcloaks looked at each other's faces and then looked at the pile of sacks on the cart behind Wylis. Sure, they couldn't stop Wylis from going in since it was King's command. But it was their job to check the contents of the cart first.
And that day, it wasn't easy. No matter how used to violence, seeing more than a hundred severed heads wasn't easy on the mind or heart. It was nightmare-inducing, a memory that would last forever.
"Ugh…" A Goldcloak flinched as a severed head mistakenly rolled out of the sack and fell on the dirt. The eyes were still open, and rot was visible around the scalp.
"Caught that one in the Westerlands," Wylis said as he nonchalantly picked up the head and shoved it back into the sack. "No shame if it turns your stomach, boys. Gods know I can't stomach looking at 'em all at once either."
"No one should, aye," the Goldcloak muttered, stepping back from the cart. "But orders are orders. King says jump, we jump. You're free to go—Good luck."
That was the common theme around that time, it seemed. Anyone going to see the King received a lot of good luck greetings.
Wylis tied the sacks again, mounted Caliburn, and rode through the bronze doors with pride. It was the first time Wylis was entering the Red Keep, the absolute center of power in Westeros, and it felt rather exciting.
So close to power, yet he felt a little fear. A little hesitation. If Robert was the King, he believed he could deal with the man. But Targaryens were different. They carried the pride and overconfidence of a dynasty that had ruled for over a century. A dynasty that once rode dragons thanks to magic in their blood.
I do need the luck today.
Riding up through the elevated path, he soon reached the outdoor courtyard, from where he could see many towering red buildings all around. There were many Goldcloaks there, some sparring. There were also civilians from the looks of it.
Then, on the right, he saw the large building, the one that likely held the Throne Room within it. Right at the building's gates there were two Kingsguards he didn't know about.
The court's in session? Great.
He got off the horse and led Caliburn towards the building, dragging the cart behind. As expected, the two Kingsguards halted him but recognized him.
"What business brings the northern beast so far south?"
Wylis scratched his chin, trying to recognize them. "Greetings. Brought the hundred bandit skulls the King himself called for."
Just like the Goldcloaks, the Kingsguards also looked astonished, first giving each other a look, and then they checked the contents of the sack. They fared much better, however, not even flinching at so many severed heads.
Though, they did look at Wylis like he was some demonic beast.
"Wait here."
Solemnly, one of the Kingsguards vanished into the building.
Wylis eyed the other Kingsguard. "I'm Wylis of Winterfell."
"Ser Jonothor Darry."
Never heard of him.
"You caught them alone?"
Wylis nodded. "With my blood, sweat, and a whole lot of sword swinging."
Two types of swords, though.
As he held back a chuckle, the other Kingsguards returned and gestured for Wylis to follow.
"His Grace will receive you now. Bring the heads along."
Wylis agreed without hesitation. He detached the cart from Caliburn and then started dragging the cart himself. "Lead the way, Ser."
But Wylis soon realized that the throne room wasn't on the ground floor of the building, but rather on a raised floor. So, he had to drag the cart over the climbing stairs.
"Ser, if you mind keeping the sacks from toppling, I'll handle the rest."
The Kingsguard stopped leading, went behind the cart, and helped Wylis. The man tried to push the cart forward, but he was surprised, realizing Wylis was easily pulling it himself.
"I'm Wylis of Winterfell, by the way."
"Prince Lewyn Martell."
"Ah, from Dorne?" Wylis mused. He didn't know there was a Martell in the Kingsguard. Even more surprising was that Elia still got treated like shit.
"Why? Interested in Dorne?"
"Aye, I'm interested. Don't touch wine often, but I've had Dornish red—strong stuff. Burns like it's got a grudge. Though, reckon for a Northern lad like me, swapping the biting cold for blazing heat might not sit too kindly."
Prince Lewyn chuckled at that. "Right about that. Most don't fare well there."
Right about that time, they reached the top of the stairs. Massive doors waited there, closed. But Prince Lewyn went ahead again and pushed one of the doors wide open. It was large enough to give Wylis space to walk and drag in the cart.
Knighthood, here I come.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Before Wylis even stepped inside the throne room, he heard a loud clapping, from a single man, it seemed. And once he had a proper look inside, he noticed the King's high throne straight ahead in the distance. The King was standing before his raised, sword-spiked throne, crown on his head, eyes full of glee, his hands clapping furiously.
As he reached the threshold of those massive, oak and bronze doors, he saw the long carpet that stretched from the door to the throne, creating the grand entrance. He had already noticed the shadows of dragon skulls adorned near the throne on the sides. Also, a small council table was located beneath the Iron Throne, occupied by some figures.
It's a fully loaded court.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Not making the King wait any longer, Wylis walked through the opened gate, onto the expensive carpet.
Ting!
Right at that moment, a blue screen flashed before his eyes. The notification was so shocking that he almost froze on the spot, his jaw tightened, his heart pounded in his chest, and his eyes shook.
[Trueborns & Bastards Triggered!]
[Name: Lyanna StarkAge: 18
Occupation: Daughter of Lord Stark, Closest friend
Current Loyalty: 93%
Status: Impregnated]
What? What do you mean impregnated? It's been months… Why so late? What's going on?
Clap! Clap! Clap!
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