How About No? 4 (Patreon)

How About No?

Chapter 4

-VB-

“You don’t look like a local,” Jarameah said conversationally while looking up and down at the stranger who was temporarily residing in the Blackbark Village.

“I’m not,” the stranger replied as he looked over Jara’s wares. “Where are you from?”

The stranger was rude to ask without introducing himself. But then again, Jarameah was used to such treatment; everyone disregarded merchants and peddlers for being “copper counters,” as if they didn’t do that in private and with each other.

“I am Jarameah of White Harbor,” he replied. “Only the biggest port city in all of the North.”

“I see.”

And the stranger wasn’t one for much t-.

“These look like they are from a variety of locations and cultures,” the stranger suddenly said. “I’m surprised that you would bring such wares this deep into the North.”

-maybe he thought too soon.

“Well, a merchant has to make a living, and while most Northern lords don’t want or need much luxuries, there’s always someone in Winterfell who wants something new and fresh.”

“I see,” the stranger repeated. “I’m from somewhere far from here.”

“You like Westerosi to me. A man from the Westerlands, even.”

“Do I?” he asked as he paused and rubbed at his clean-shaven chin. Very clean-shaven chin. How did he do that? “How do you know that?”

“Well, I have seen some Westerland men when I visited the King’s Landing.”

“Oh, you have been to the capital?”

“I have,” he nodded. “It is a very unique place.” Nowhere else in the world smelled like it except in the shit ditches. “Why, are you heading there?”

“No, I intend to stay far away from that cesspit of politics, intrigue, misery, and poverty trap,” the stranger grimaced, and Jarameah couldn’t help but agree. He definitely didn’t want to go back if he had a choice. It wasn’t like the King’s Landing or the Crownlands appreciated Northern goods like the Vale and the Riverlands did.

-VB-

My conversation with the merchant went on for a bit more after that, but in the end, I did not get much from the merchant as I would have liked. For one, most traveling merchants did not carry herbs beyond what they used themselves, according to the merchant I talked to.

What I did find out, however, was when I was in A song of ice and fire’s timeline.

It wasn’t the Game of Thrones canon but long before that. You know, an era I was not so familiar with.

‘God, I wish I had my phone or something along with the internet.’

It was so easy to learn about anything when I had the internet, and that was mere days ago! Was I an internet addict, having learned to surf the neverending ebb and flow of information and colors? Was I to never see such wonders again?

It was actually kind of horrible because boredom dominated much of my waking hours.

… Still, meeting that merchant and buying a few of his supplies got me to check off some more of the things I wanted. For one, I got the time period. The Blackfyre rebellion hadn’t happened yet, though I wasn’t sure how far off the rebellion was to fire off. Two, it’s been four years into this Winter, which made it one of the longer Winters and so it was probably close to ending.

This also meant that the North would not be a good place for any kind of material acquisition as most of the people and the land was on survival mode. No, if I wanted material for my alchemy, then I would either have to head down south or start hunting for meat.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t a hunter. Never was. Without experience and knowledge of the land, hunting would be at least a failure and yet worse a cause for fatality. I was not keen on losing myself in the forest in the middle of winter.

No, if I wanted to find my materials, then I would have to travel south and arrive at the very least in the Neck, if not the Riverlands.

Thankfully, I sold some of the furs I had to the merchant, which gave me enough coins to buy dried meat and hardtack from both the merchant and the villagers.

In essence, I was ready to set out.

“You’re leaving?”

The village chief knew it the moment he laid his eyes on me after opening his front door.

“I am,” I replied. “I just wanted to let you know so that you wouldn’t worry about me.”

The chief hummed. “The road is going to be treacherous at best, boy.”

“But I must go regardless.”

He stared at me with that blank, emotionless face of his, eyes and all, before nodding. “Everyone does as everyone must. Before you go, though, stay there for a second.” Then he walked back inside. When he came back out after what felt like five minutes… he had a small bag. He gave it to me, I accepted, and when I peered inside, I saw dried meat. Dried bear meat.

“Wait-.”

“I would feel horrible if you died on the road from something like starvation.”

“... Thank you.”

For once, he smiled. It was a kind smile.

“Good luck out there.”

“Thank you. And you too.”

As I left, I found myself liking the North more than I had before. If it was filled with people like the chief, then perhaps the shitty weather was worth weathering in the future.

… Ah, my punny brain made a pun. Heh heh.

-VB-

“We missed him,” Shiera grumbled after listening to the report from one of the soldiers who’d gone to investigate one of the villages of House Hornwood.

“It is unfortunate,” Ser Bedoier hummed from where he stood to her left. They and the rest of her retinue were in Hornwood itself.

To her right was Lord of the Hornwood himself, simply happy to host one of the Targaryens, especially someone like her who was close to the Hand of the King and thus the king himself.

“Are you saying that someone who is versed in magic had been staying in my lands?” Lord Marik* Hornwood asked. The short brown haired, neatly bearded and moustached noble hummed after saying that. “I suppose then you will not be staying in Hornwood for too long.”

“If it does not bother you…”

“Oh no, milady! It certainly does not. In fact, I am happy to have served you and House Targaryen in any capacity!” the well-built man who must have been handsome in his earlier years smiled. He was still handsome but in the “handsome middle-aged men” manner. Shiera was sure that there were many maidens who would have fallen for that charm.

But she recognized Lord Hornwood for who he was: a schemer like herself. He made no mention of her visiting Winterfell or the like because he knew that her stay here would boost House Hornwood’s own prestige while lowering that of House Stark at the same time. He was, unfortunately, an amateurish schemer. The way he sought that prestige was blunt and heavy-handed in spite of the intrigue he was obviously trying to inject into his efforts. He was too free with praise and adoration for her house, but sparse in any recognition of her.

It made her wonder how the Source of the change would react upon meeting her. Would he bend the knee? Would he stand like a Wildling? Would a fight break out immediately?

She couldn’t wait to find out, but she would not forgive the Source if they made her wait for too long.

-VB-

A/N: *there is no information I could find on the lineage, members, and relations of House Hornwood except for those involved in the War of the Five Kings. As such, I made him up.