《The Pale Upstart》


 Freedom

    Westeros was noticeably colder than Essos. Even in the Stormlands which geographically did not stand further north than the cities he had visited, he had often longed for the Essosi warmth. The Reach felt mild for his sensibilities. He had grown accustomed to it, though really he had no choice on the matter.


    The collar he once had around his neck was not as missed as the weather. Yet ever since he had come back to Westeros, he had not quite felt as free as he now did. A shame this freedom had to come with a prize.


    Gideon, assistant to the kind and eccentric Lord Aster Tyrell, clutched the proof of his release from service in one hand, the other resting on the sword left to him by said master. Freedom, a substantial gift of gold and a sword. Truly he had been blessed on this day.


    But as it often did in his short existence, the blessing was to be followed with a curse. As he entered the keep of Honeyholt, Gideon once again repeated the words in his head.


    ¡® My ladies, my lords. I have arrived before you to deliver a most saddening news. The good Lord Aster Tyrell, my employer, has recently passed away.¡¯


    He knew he would not be able to deliver his message how he had wanted to, the moment he saw their faces. Lord Tyrell¡¯s wife and his three children. They were exchanging pleasantries with Lady Beesbury, as he had expected them to. As far as he was aware, the Lord Beesbury was not a man who sought to be affiliated with Aster Tyrell or his family.


    His master had been one eccentric and unusual noble, far more than the rest of House Tyrell had ever tolerated, though not so much that he had to be banished from the Great House. This sort of political play was not unfamiliar to Gideon, but he had never fully understood them. Black Sheep of the family as he was, Aster Tyrell was still the brother of House Beesbury¡¯s liege. Then again the vassals of the Great Houses were not what Gideon would call the most loyals. There was a large contrast between what he had been told, and what he had noticed with his very eyes.


    ¡° Gideon? I was not told you would come to Honeyholt. Is my Lord Husband well?¡± The Lady Tyrell asked him as soon as she noticed him. Even amongst a crowd, she could have picked him easily, with his white cowl and the wrappings over his face. Anyone who had any sort of influence in the Reach would have the same ease he feared. He had become far more infamous since his return to Westeros than he had ever wanted.


    When the young lords and ladies turned to him with dazzling smiles on their faces, Gideon was certain he could not deliver the news the way he had planned to. Lady Tyrell¡¯s eyebrows creased immediately as he came forward with his head down. He would do this often simply to hide his facial features, but she could easily tell this was more so because of his mood, and the severity of the message he carried.


    ¡° My Lady Tyrell, the good Lord Aster Tyrell¡­.My Lord, he¡­.¡± The words died in his throat. She stood up and Lady Beesbury brought a hand to her mouth, the shock evident on her pale face. She, too, was aware of Aster Tyrell¡¯s worsening health. Only the children- although it was ironic of him to call them so when he was not that much older- did not understand the sudden change.


    ¡° When? When did this happen? Has the rest of House Tyrell been notified?¡± Lina Tyrell said, her voice cracking as all the confidence she had been exuding or had tried to, in any case, crumbled. Lady Beesbury quickly went to her side to comfort her. Gideon saw that the children were finally catching on. The firstborn daughter, Alysanne, prevented her brothers from reacting strongly. Even when it came to mourning, nobles remained quite obsessed with their image. That much he could understand. One could live or die with the image they created; often that was the only thing you know of a noble whom you would probably ever see during rare and highly important events. Thus, few were the things that nobles regarded with as much importance as their image, even more so when it came to the image their entire House projected.


    ¡°Only two days ago. I was as swift as one could be. I left immediately after his last breath. Riders have been sent out just as I had left Ashford. By now the Great House Tyrell will have surely been notified.¡±


    The Tyrells were no weeping roses. Olenna Tyrell had made certain to impart this lesson to the lords and ladies of the House. Never before had he wanted them to discard this idea more so than in this instance. The boys sought the comfort of their sister, the Lady wife received it from Lady Beesbury even when she asked for none. Her teary eyes were trained on the paper he was clutching.


    ¡° Ah¡­The Lord has decided to¡­I have been released from my service to the Great House Tyrell. The Lord Tyrell has given me leave before his death and had this written on paper.¡± He showed it to her with no small amount of grief.


    ¡° Gideon, you¡¯re l-leaving us?¡± The first son of his Lord, Arthur, asked. He had seen 13 name days and was his junior by only three more. Yet the little lord already stood at the same height, and Gideon did not know himself to be a small man.


    The Tyrells were the only ones whom he knew not to wince when he gazed directly into their eyes with his own sickly pink orbs. He tried to avoid showing his eyes as much as he could outside of the occurrences where he had to intimidate others. But now, he could no longer do so.


    ¡° Yes. I was released, with enough gold to start a new life¡­and a last order from the Lord.¡± He answered. Lady Tyrell gasped as he undid the wrappings around his face. He did so as swiftly as possible, as though they were burning him. Lady Beesbury, from disgust or fear, he knew not. The few guards instinctively grasped their swords. They did not unsheathe, but they certainly appeared wary.


    ¡° I am to manifest my dreams into reality, and never again hide who I am unless forced to.¡± He spoke over the children¡¯s loud surprise. They had never seen his pinkish eyes or his long snow-white hair, though they had indeed been told after pestering their father for months. The fear he had been waiting for did not show itself. Only wonder and awe in those eyes he probably wouldn¡¯t see again for a long time.


    ¡° My lord husband¡¯s words are final. I would not release you from our service, had the choice been mine. But Aster always went on and on about your ambition¡­..Will you leave now?¡± Lady Tyrell asked him. She had plastered her face with a mask of control, but he knew she would cry herself to sleep that night. Perhaps not for Aster himself, but at least for the children.


    ¡° I would not lie to you, my Lady. Especially not in such trying times. I have always known I would one day wander Westeros as a free man. I have prepared myself for such a day. Now that it is here, I can hardly wait.¡±


    A part of him shattered as her lips quivered. Leaving a widow to deal with the aftermath of her Lord Husband¡¯s death. Leaving a family he had known for years now, at the first chance he was given.


    He could only put the blame on his years as a slave in Essos. The ¡®freedom¡¯ he was given once reaching Westeros had not changed the child who had lost his heart amidst the brothels of Lys and the fighting pits of Mereen.


    Or he was simply lying to himself once more.


    ¡° I sincerely hope you will find a way to realize the future Aster envisioned. I will not forget you, Gideon of Myr.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He pushed the paper into Lady Lina¡¯s hands. Then, he bowed, perhaps even deeper than was expected of him and quickly turned around to leave. He would not leave them with the unsightly last image of his own teary eyes. He was certain Lady Beesbury was puzzled by the events, but only a few knew how close he was with Aster Tyrell and his family. They would never try to keep him against his will, they would never go after Aster¡¯s own last will and above all else, they would not mourn now. Now they had to be strong. They had to let him dismiss himself and then move on. They could only collapse once they took in the sight of Aster¡¯s cold body.


    He knew the children would be quite crossed with him leaving without letting them give him a true farewell, but hopefully, the Lady would tell them that it was better for everyone. Better to remove the blade swiftly.


    There was nothing else in Honeyholt for him, so he left immediately afterwards. His horse whined under him, unsatisfied with the short reprieve he had been given, but Gideon pressed on. He had to cover some grounds before night fell.


    The journey to the Crownlands was going to be a long one. He could only hope the Roseroad would not offer him an onslaught of troubles. Gods knew this would not be the first time the supposedly calm lands of the Reach proved far more annoying than he once believed them to be.


    Finally, he could free his mind of the worries that plagued him since Aster¡¯s death. And finally, he could focus on other pressing matters. He lifted his eyes off the road and gazed at the words only he could see, floating lazily right above.


    [ The Champion has received a new quest! ]


    Those words had been pestering him for the last week, but Lord Aster had been dying. Then he died, far sooner than Gideon had thought he would. He was in no position to address this.


    Then again, hadn¡¯t he been ignoring this new reality of his for a couple of months now?


    Aster Tyrell had lived as a merchant since his family unofficially pushed him away for his¡­.¡¯differences¡¯. Gideon assisted him with all sorts of matters, as he was apparently as learned as a noble scion. In the months that preceded this mess, he and Lord Aster had been making quite a few coins selling wares from the more unknown nations of Essos. A chance meeting with some merchants from faraway lands had put their enterprise on the path to obscene wealth. When these strange words first appeared, Gideon had been in denial for a long time.


    Then he accepted that he had not become mad. Why would madness only manifest in this strange and unheard-of way? No, clearly this was real. He then sought to understand. Why and how?


    The why was clear to him. It could only be the Gods. Who else had this power? For this was not as simple as words appearing in the air. This was a power of unspeakable potential. For months, different sentences came to him. At times, he was given quests. Often he was notified of the completion of ¡®achievements¡¯ for what the Gods deemed to be notable deeds. His rewards for these achievements?


    [ The Champion has regained his true freedom!]


    [ Achievement reward: +2 Prowess ]


    Now, what was prowess exactly? He had not sought explanations. He had indeed been avoiding this power for months. But he could easily guess. Before even this specific achievement, he had received some ¡®Prowess¡¯ as it was called. The result? He actually gained height! More than that, his strength had become greater. Not so much that he could best an actual warrior now, he was still a long way from knowing how to fight effectively.


    Still, it had to be the Gods. And what a revelation that was. Was he blessed? He had never been pious, he could freely admit to that. Which Gods had even gifted him this power? The old or new ones? Would that even be the Gods of Westeros? What if it was the deities of Essos?


    In truth, he had no way of knowing. He had tried to question them, but the words before him would not change. Not like he had expected the very Gods to speak to him. Still¡­..A champion? The power clearly spoke of him that way.


    It did not matter for now. What did was this new quest he had received. Only once before had he completed a quest. He had received more than one quest in the time that he has had. However, these tasks given by the Gods all had relatively small time limits. He had failed all but that one.


    It had been a simple task of helping Lord Tyrell reach a certain threshold of profits. In return, he had unlocked what the Gods called ¡®Masteries¡¯.


    He brought a hand to the words and tried to change them like he had done once. He could touch different ¡®Menus¡¯ as the words described them. Each showed different information, be that achievements, quests or, in this case, The Masteries.


    [ Gideon ]


    Stewardship: 5/???


    Diplomacy: 2/???


    Military: 0/???


    Learning: 5/???


    Prowess: 4/???


    Artisan: 0/???


    [ The Champion can select different menus by thinking of their name. The Champion is not required to touch the System ]


    System? What a strange word. Were the Gods telling him the name of this ability they had given him? Again, he could not gain answers to his endless questions. However, this was good to know. It would have been awkward to utilize this power whilst surrounded by others.


    The very day he had first seen the words, he had been given a warning. The champion should keep knowledge of his newfound abilities secret. The warning came with no knowledge of what would happen if he spoke, but then again convinced as he was that Gods were behind this, he would make it a point to keep his mouth shut.


    In regards to those masteries, he had been told that these represented his abilities, be that his ability to handle his finances, his soldiers should he gain access to troops or even his own ability as a warrior. They governed all the aspects of his life but information on those masteries was hidden. Besides the actual value he had for each Mastery, he was told that there should be a value for the limit he could actually reach in each of them, but for now, all he could were those interrogation marks.


    This was vexing, but he was not beyond working to gain this knowledge. In fact¡­.


    [ New quest: Turmoil for the Fish ]


    The Great House Tully has seen a decade of bloody conflicts with its vassals since the previous Lord Paramount died of a disease and left his reckless heir in charge. Will you help the Great Lord Edmure Tully or bring about his downfall?


    First Path: Help the Tullys win the Vassal War


    Reward: +2 Martial, +2 Prowess, Access to Queries.


    Second Path: Aid the rebelling vassals against House Tully.


    Reward: +4 Martial, +3 Stewardship, Access to Queries, ???


    Third Path: ???


    Reward: ???


    Time Limit: 1 week to Accept Quest, 4 months to Complete Quest.


    This¡­..this was new. The previous quests had not nearly been as complex as this. He nearly fell off his horse as he read the quest. This was an endeavour the likes of which he had not expected to be a part of any time soon.


    However, these queries caught his eye. Did the Gods mean by that, that he could then upon completion of this quest¡­.Query them for information? This would be a great boon for him. And yet, he had to admit he felt far more trepidation than excitement when seeing this quest.


    Worse still, this was personal. Before Aster Tyrell¡­before Essos¡­


    He had been a peasant of the Riverlands.


    He remembered it; he remembered it with frightening clarity. The villagers were afraid of him, but they did not push him away. They pitied him far more than they feared him. The weak child who could not stand under the sun. He had gotten better with time, even more so since he had been given these ¡®points¡¯ in ¡®Prowess¡¯. He remembered the war with the vassals. He had left the Riverlands when he was five name days old. The war started two years after that. His first master had told him about it. He had been a good man, that master. He was murdered by his own wife; how tragic, really. Then again Gideon could take a part of the blame for that.


    The war was always meant to happen. In fact, Holster Tully had started it. It only truly caught on when his heir took over because the boy, well a man now, was apparently quite foolish. Holster had been seen as weak, for seeking alliances left, right and center¡­.or so he had heard. The man simply struck him as cautious and level-headed. Perhaps cruel to his daughters, but so were every Lord he knew of, except for Aster of course. The Great Lords could only be even worse.


    He had believed Westeros to be far more stable than Essos. Then he lived in Essos and constantly received news of turmoil in his old home. He grew up to realize that Westeros simply¡­relied on image. The Lords all did. Sometimes this whole mask of peace cracked. Often, as was the case with the Lannisters, the Great Lords swiftly dealt with any issues before they could become large enough to embarrass them. Sometimes, as it happened with the Ironborn, the King himself acted.


    Aster once told him that one had to see beyond the web of alliances. When everyone is allied to everyone else, it does not count half as much as it should. When the King wants to show favour, but his hand and just about every other advisor plead with him to avoid angering the Great Lords with favouritism¡­..When the Lords have become fed with the stillness of the Seven Kingdoms and seek glory and power¡­


    He knew nothing was as it seemed in Westeros, more so than any other places he had been to or heard of. Once it saddened him.


    Now?


    [ The champion has accepted the quest! ]


    The paths do not need to be selected. The System shall detect which path the Champion has gone with once the quest is completed.


    Special rewards will be granted to the Champion should unique achievements unlocked with this quest be completed whilst the quest is active.


    Now he was going to unravel the mysteries of this ¡®system¡¯. He needed to know how to use it. He had to¡­


    This was the path forward for his ambition to become a reality. He had nothing but his horse, some gold and a good sword. As intimidating as he looked, he was far more likely to get people to try to burn him than to get any benefits from the fear he created.


    But with Aster dead, he could finally admit to himself that the old man¡¯s wish to change his nature would never come to fruition. So at long last, he could finally be himself. Aster had failed, and he would mourn him; he would miss him.


    His death, however, meant one thing. The boy who had once poisoned the mind of a master¡¯s wife to get him killed, the boy who had trapped a master in a brothel he often visited only to repeatedly stab him until he bled to death, even though he knew it would not get him any closer to freedom¡­.


    That same boy was now on his way to the Riverlands to see the future Aster had envisioned, materialize before his eyes. Of that he was certain.


    Aster Tyrell had predicted that should he be allowed to freely roam Westeros and so long as he was not murdered because some fools mistook his appearance for some great curse, he could go on to become a Great Lord. Perhaps the old man had simply wished to be kind to a foolish boy with dreams too grand for his delicate body.


    Still, on the way to the Roseroad, Gideon whistled. As they did with all men, the Gods held the keys to his fate. He had not been a religious man before, perhaps that was now bound to change. He sang to himself as he planned for the journey ahead.


    No matter what it could possibly take. He would go as far as this power could take him, and even further beyond so long as it simply relied on his willpower.


    He had plenty to spare and a revenge to take. He was taken from Westeros. He suffered greatly in Essos, but more than that, he learned. He watched his fat masters with barely disguised hatred. Even in the early days of his comeback to Westeros. Oh, he hated Aster.


    In all of his life, he had always hated the Lords. Most hated them because the world was unfair, and they could not accept it. Not him. He hated them because of something else. It wasn¡¯t justice that fueled his hatred.


    It was jealousy. It had always been. On the Gods themselves he now swore¡­


    He would take as much as his greed could possibly handle and then some more.


    A.N:


    So as already said in the description for this fic, this will be somewhat of an A.U. Not entirely, for certain, but expect Planetos and it¡¯s history to be somewhat different. In general, Westeros is boring. Not much happens there, there ain¡¯t many wars and I think even during the medieval age of Europe, it wasn¡¯t exactly all that exciting with constant conquests and adventures either.


    But just as Martin neglected parts of his world to suit the politics and the whole Other subplot, I will remold parts of ASOIAF so that it fits this story.


    I preferred not to outright state it in the description but the system in this fic is loosely inspired by the interface of Crusader Kings 3, this is mostly due to this fic being directly inspired by Legends Never Die, a ¡®historical fiction¡¯ if you can call it that, that I personally adore. Do not expect this story to play out exactly like Crusader Kings 3 game, because again this is only a loose inspiration, it is not the exact same and there are in universe explanations for it.


    As a final warning for readers, I would say that one should probably not expect accuracy on the ASOIAF lore from this. I am no expert in it and even if I was, this story is headed a specific way and it will indeed go that way no matter what pieces of the lore, politics and geography I have to mess with to get there. Treat it as it¡¯s own story, even if it happens on Planetos, and you should be funny.


    Any sorts of comments/reviews are appreciated. I will read all that I can to better this story and suggestions will be attentively looked at.


    Cheers.

 Turmoil

    Lord Tyrell had often told him that he did not take enough time in a day to admire the beauty of the Reach. Until now he had never found a reason to do more than roll his eyes at the old man. Of course he would be biased towards his home. But he had known that the man¨Ceccentric as he was¨C was one to consistently seek objectivity.


    ¡° To trust only your own feelings on a matter is to always risk being short-sighted. One could say this was the main problem of many Lords of days past. Each day I am alive, I seek to distance myself from such faults in my character.¡±


    He could only understand the wisdom in those words now that his Lord was dead, and his Lord no more. He had not exaggerated it one bit. Essos had often struck him as a desiccated land. He knew, from a select few merchants he had pestered about their homelands, that it was not even slightly the case. He only knew of a fraction of the large continent. Try as he might, he could not prove himself as objective as Lord Tyrell, he could not get the image of a gigantic desert out of his mind when he thought of Essos. He certainly had enough hatred for sand to last a lifetime.


    The Reach, however, was a lifelike painting. It could not be real. If he ever met any fool lacking in wits enough to claim any of the other ¡®Kingdoms¡¯ were the equals of the Reach, he would certainly question their sanity. It was warm, but not overwhelmingly so like Dorne or Essos. Everywhere he looked, he saw green and a healthy green at that. Not the fading green making way for the death Winter brought with it. He idly wondered if the region had been transformed over time to become this breathtaking. Could nature produce this on its own?


    He knew in his heart he was making a mountain out of nothing. There had to be other such places in the world. Not all the beauty men could ever partake in this world belonged to the Reach. This was, however, the very first time he ceased his endless scheming and paused to¡­.


    ¡° Take in the sights, Gideon. Loath as we may be to proclaim our love for it, with all the suffering it has brought us, this is our home. And I mean the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. Not just the Reach. There are sights all across the land. One should appreciate them, free of the judgement that comes from misplaced pride in a single region always meant to be part of a whole.¡±


    He always had such a dopey smile whenever he tried to impart these lessons to him. He knew his dear assistant was merely hearing him. Listening, it appeared so now, only came once the old man was no longer around to dispense some much-needed wisdom.


    He would take these lessons to heart if only to be a man comparable to Aster Tyrell in the lightness of the heart. The man was a feather uncaringly floating along the winds. He had enough reasons to be miserable, the rest of House Tyrell had made certain of that, but he stood in a world of his own making.


    Days passed whilst his mind remained fixed solely on his old master. He made sure to make frequent stops; there was no need to work the poor beast to death. The horse, whatever its name may have been certainly seemed grateful every time he jumped off.


    Whenever he made camp, he had to push down thoughts on how repulsive the food he had to eat was. Blame Aster for it, but he had acquired a taste for somewhat fine products. Not the kinds that the Lords would consider luxurious, but certainly that which a peasant like him would never have had access to in the past. Perhaps he could see his fate as a slave as a disguised chance? Lord Tyrell certainly was fond of that. Looking at painful memories and somehow twisting them into helpful and even necessary ambushes in one¡¯s journey.


    He lost count of the days that had passed since he had left Honeyholt, but at long last he had reached the Crownlands. Thankfully he had stopped by Tumbleton on the way to stock up on food. It had been far more expensive than he had expected.


    He had heard of high taxes pushing prices in the Crownlands but certainly not in the Reach. Then again Lord Aster was more often than not the one handling financial matters. In a way, Gideon had actually lived as some sort of pampered child under Lord Tyrell. That thought made him giggle softly.


    According to his map, he would soon reach a small village named Vainwood. He could only shake his head at the name. It wasn¡¯t exactly the most ridiculous one he had heard in Westeros, let alone Essos, but it certainly was bizarre. He would briefly stop by the village to recuperate from the journey and then reach the Kingsroad. From there he would go to Rosby and seek information on the Vassal war in the Riverlands.


    He had entertained the idea of visiting King¡¯s Landing, but he could hardly stomach the thought. Lady Tyrell had certainly complained enough over the few years he had spent with her family. According to her, not one single city in the entire world could be more foul-smelling, repulsive and corrupt as King¡¯s Landing. It sounded less so like the capital of the Seven Kingdoms and more like an overgrown den of unwashed bandits. When he had voiced the thought during one afternoon on the road to Highgarden, she had told him he was not far off from the truth.


    No, he would not even approach the-


    He furrowed his brows as he reached a crossroad. The road to the left seemed almost erased. He could hardly make it out as bad weeds had completely overtaken it. What truly caught his eye, however, was a jolly looking woman beckoning him. He had wrapped his head again on the road if only to avoid any risk of burning under the unforgiving sun. Thus, she did not seem as wary of him as one ought to be. Especially a peasant woman by the looks of it.


    ¡° Are ye making way fer King¡¯s Landing milord?¡±


    Her voice was sweet, sickeningly so. He saw a few bushes rustle to his right but kept his eyes trained on her.


    ¡° Not exactly, but I am following the Kingsroad. Why have you stopped me, woman?¡± He exclaimed. He was quite used to making his voice sound far lower than it really was. He sounded every bit as young as he was, and he couldn¡¯t say he appreciated it.


    ¡° Well milord, I wouldn¡¯t r-recommend going that way¡± She pointed at the Kingsroad. He noticed how she struggled with the word.¡± There¡¯s been bandits am afraid, milord. Them Crownmen or Crownguards or whatever, they¡¯ve said to avoid the big roads.¡± She finished with a half-smile.


    He wondered what it said about him that he could easily spot the fakeness of that smile. She glanced at the bushes but only for a split-second. Unfortunately for her, he could hear further than the common man. A Maester had once told him it was a natural occurrence, linked to his poor sight. He never trusted those creepy old fools though.


    An ambush then? He couldn¡¯t quite guess just how dangerous this situation truly was. He was certainly no great knight. With his current skill and, more importantly, his prowess, he guessed he could handle himself in a fight. The problem resided in the fact that his strength was far greater than his skill with a blade, and he was not even that strong to begin with. An ambush meant more than one adversary to face. He quickly picked his usual choice when facing any sort of danger: running away as swiftly as humanly possible. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡° Got the little fucker!¡± A nasty voice registered behind him. Two strong arms wrapped around his stomach before he could react and he was lifted off his horse. He thrashed in his captor¡¯s grasp and crashed the back of his head into the man¡¯s jaw.


    ¡° Agh! The little shit¡¯s got balls.¡±


    He scrambled to his feet and made a mad dash for the forest. Judging by the shrieks of anger behind him, the others had not appreciated their fellow bandit¡¯s idleness. The bastard probably expected him to actually fight back instead of running away. Most of them did surprisingly so. Did he actually look like he was stupid enough to face impossible odds willingly?


    No matter. Once in the forest, he had to admit he had no real plan besides ¡®Trying to outrun them.¡¯ Then he heard the gallop of his own horse and loudly cursed.


    ¡° This has to be a fucking joke! My horse!?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a horrible idea, but he would have preferred if they had just chased him on foot. Whilst he somehow started running even faster than before, he looked for any hiding place he could use. He was not outrunning a horse and he was certainly not facing them. Alas, he seemed out of options. No matter where he would crouch or lie down, they would see him.


    ¡® Think fast, think fast. The one on the horse will reach me first. If I can get him off and get back on my horse right after, I can leave them behind!¡¯


    He took out his sword and briefly admired its gleam. Lord Tyrell had probably spent a small fortune on it. It was fairly short truth be told, but it was a beautiful thing with intricate patterns on the pommel and the guard. He could admire it once safe and far away from this damn place.


    Try as he might, he couldn¡¯t prevent his hands from shaking. He breathed heavily, and with each sharp intake of air, he hoped he was right, and they wouldn¡¯t all arrive at the same time. The next second, he saw the horse. He tried to anticipate, to drive his sword into the bandit¡¯s body at the right time, wherever it may land, so long as it got him off his horse. For his trouble, all he got was the handle of the man¡¯s axe snapping his head back with a single hit. He saw darkness before he collapsed.


    A droplet of blood touched the grass beneath him and his eyes widened at the sight. His wrappings had come undone, and as the bandit turned the horse around, he took in the sight with far more horror than he had any right to feel.


    ¡° What manner of fucking demon are ya!?¡±


    Crass as he was, he seemed more articulate than his female companion. Gideon clutched his bleeding head and opened his mouth to answer, perhaps even plead for his life, but in lieu of the bandit before him, he first saw a blindingly bright sentence hanging in the air. It had been pulsating in the corner of his eyes as soon as he was grabbed on his horse, but only now did it directly appear in his face.


    [ The Champion has received a new quest!]


    [ New Quest: Ambush by the Road, First Part ]


    Objective: Survive


    Time limit: 30 seconds.


    Rewards: ???


    He couldn¡¯t quite believe his eyes. 30 seconds? What did that even mean? Did he have 30 seconds until his demise or was he meant to survive for 30 seconds to receive his rewards? The ¡®First Part¡¯ written in red letters was perhaps the most worrying sight. He had to calm himself. He had to ignore the pain. He had to.


    ¡° I-I would say attacking a demon is an especially foolish idea. Wouldn¡¯t you think so?¡± He did not what pushed him to speak those words, but that was about all he could think to say. He was entirely too used to intimidation. Only now he could admit, he should have worked on other skills to get his way.


    Unsurprisingly, the man¡¯s ugly mug did not contort itself in fear. He merely sneered but did not get the horse to move. He was waiting for his companions. Gideon did have a sword, unskilled as he was with it. He clutched it with all his might, as though it could save him on its own.


    And then, the sound of a galloping horse again. No, this time he heard not just one horse. The large bandit before him heard it, too, and the colour threatened to leave his face, but he steeled his resolve.


    ¡° Ya fuckwits, get yer asses here! We¡¯s got some Crownmen!¡± He bellowed.


    Gideon couldn¡¯t smother the shame he felt when he winced in fear as the rest of the bandits showed themselves. All eight of them. He could have only escaped with that hastily made plan. And they seemed fairly equipped at that, and disciplined enough not to scramble in fear as the forces of the Crown approached.


    That much he could not quite understand. He hadn¡¯t even known the King had forces beyond the Kingsguard and his City Watch. And if he had forces indeed, he would expect them to at least be fearsome enough to send bandits scrambling away. All his questions answered themselves when he saw the ¡®Crownmen¡¯ arrive. Five horsemen, just that.


    They wore the heraldry of the Great House Baratheon on their pauldrons and chests. If the bandits were well equipped, those knights were about the most shiny-looking bastards he had ever seen.


    ¡°Halt you scum!¡± The rider at the forefront screamed. He sounded far older than his build suggested. A well-built old man, a first for Gideon.


    ¡° You stand in the lands under direct control of his Grace King Robert Baratheon The First of His Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms! You lot would already be hanged to death in other lands, but you dare act under the watchful eyes of the King!?¡±


    Whilst the man talked, Gideon ran¨C or rather scrambled for safety behind them¨C and found that none of the bandits so much as tried to stop him. He had an increasingly bad feeling about this. The knights were outnumbered, but even then they were a striking sight. None of these fools running around robbing people in the middle of the day looked even worried. He did not go with the assumption that they were overconfident.


    ¡° Whaddya mean scum!? A man and his friends ain¡¯t allowed to wander the woods at this hour? Is this about this here demon? Fool struck his head gainst¡¯ a tree!¡± The leader of the band, and the very same fucker on Gideon¡¯s horse, exclaimed.


    ¡° Seriously?¡± The knight at the front scoffed, and so did the others, for that matter. ¡° We have full authority, bestowed by His Grace himself, to apprehend individuals under suspicion. Under mere suspicion, proof of ill deeds or not.¡±


    Again, not a lick of fear. Except on that woman¡¯s face, the one who had spoken to him. She had nothing but some ridiculous knife she held as though she knew anything about weapons, and clearly she did not.


    This time he did not need the words to appear before him to focus on them.


    [ Quest completed: Ambush by the Road, First Part ]


    Rewards: +1 Military, Access to the Second Part.


    He had sincerely hoped this would end with the arrival of the Crownmen. Apparently, the Gods did not wish to grant his wishes on that day. The second quest appeared, right about the same time as another group of bandits did, a few feet beside the Knights, who now found themselves pincered.


    [ New Quest: Ambush by the Road, Second Part ]


    Objective: Defeat the Bandits with the help of the Crownmen.


    Rewards: Access to the Ressource Menu, +10 Relation with the Crownmen. Insignificant Reputation gain in King¡¯s Landing.


    He knew it was a fault, a black mark on his character. But he could not help it. Greed represented in many ways who he was as a man. And when he read those words, this soothed the burning pain far more than the empty words he kept repeating to himself.


    He had to survive anyway, but incentives were always appreciated. He used his sword to push himself upright. He had trouble standing, but he could somehow manage.


    ¡° You wish to face the Crownmen, you cur? You believe numbers will protect you?¡± The knight almost seemed offended. Gideon could understand it. All that shiny metal and those peasants thought they could win. Then again, he had seen his fair share of fully armoured men being defeated in frankly humiliating ways in Essos. There were gaps and weaknesses in every armour, no matter the blacksmith who made them.


    The bandits paced around, both those on the right and those on the left. They did not know when to attack, but they were certainly not going to give the Knight an answer. Another Crownman beside him spoke in a hushed tone, but Gideon heard him all the same.


    ¡° You prepared for it already, Ser Lewyn. We only need to wait for the others. No need to face these fools with our numbers.¡±


    He could not see the face of that Ser Lewyn under his gleaming dark silver helmet, but he knew the man was just itching to stab the first sob he could get his hands on. This would certainly not be handled by a greater force of Crownmen. Gideon could not truly fault the man for it, but it would have made his life a bit easier for certain. Curse the do-gooders really.


    He did not even give his fellow a response. With his sword unsheathed, he pointed it at the bandit on the horse, who certainly seemed a bit worried by the Knight''s own lack of fear. Seems this has been mostly posturing with the hope that the Crownmen would back the fuck off.


    Gideon couldn¡¯t hide the cruel smile that spread on his face as the bandits faltered.


    ¡° We shall see if number bests quality today. I¡¯d wager it does not matter much as we also have the numbers on our side. ¡° Only at that did the bandits truly realize their mistake. But it only spurred them further. They had to win and run away before the rest could catch them.


    ¡° Your ilk have been poisoning these lands for long enough. Bless His Grace for giving us this role. The Crownlands have been in need of rat-catchers¡±


    [ A circumstantial objective has been unlocked!]


    New objective: Personally defeat as many bandits as you can.


    Rewards: Dependent on the number of targets eliminated.


    The things he had to do to satisfy his greed sometimes¡­