Pain.
There was no other way to describe eating the pommel of a sword. It didn’t matter if it was wooden or metal in my opinion. Edmure and I were the same age, and yet he was three inches taller than I was, and had many pounds on me.
Was it any surprise he was a better fighter?
Skill level up!
Pain Tolerance Lvl 26
No pain, no gain.
Skill learned!
Skill level up!
Basic Sword Fighting Lvl 1
Defense Lvl 2
Offense Lvl 1
It was with curiosity that I noticed how the game broke down Basic Sword Fighting into two categories. I wondered if there were any more skills that I would find to do something similar. The ‘Basic’ in front of the skill also led me to believe that this wasn’t the only Sword Fighting skill I would be learning. I dismissed the prompt with a thought.
If he chipped a tooth, I will legitimately murder him. I thought as I stumbled away from the blow. The extremely heavy wooden sword in my hand drug along the ground. The hand that didn’t hold the sword, was cradling my swelling lip.
“That was for my sister.” Edmure mumbled low enough that only him and I could hear.
“Teach the lad Edmure, don’t beat him!” An angry voice said as I heard the sound of boots stomping on mud. Desmond was angry.
I spat out a bit of blood, from the cut on my lip, on the ground before turning around. Desmond was marching up to Edmure with a pissed off expression. The master at arms was not a big man, barely five foot nine actually. But his arms were like tree trunks and he was barrel chested. Black hair dangled to his shoulders. The grey in his beard had yet to reach the top of his head. He was in the early stages of what we would call a beer belly in my past life. Even still, he was intimidating, and people respected him.
Edmure had led the spar with a simple overhand swing, when I blocked, he had paused for a moment before slipping past my guard and slamming his fist and sword pommel into my mouth. It was a cheap shot from a boy, at least that’s what I told myself to not attack the heir to the fucking Riverlands.
“He dishonored my sister! He should be strung up from a tree, not rewarded!” Edmure retorted.
Desmond snatched the wooden sword out of Edmure's hand and pointed a finger in his face. “You doubt your father, boy?” Desmond snarled as he bowed up to Edmure.
I was surprised with how he was treating the heir. Most people would do whatever the little shit said, for fear of the consequences. It seems that Hoster had a good man on his hands, and knew how valuable he could be for Edmure.
Too bad Edmure was doomed to mediocrity.
That’s alright. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces and take everything from him when the time comes.
Edmure sneered at Desmond for a moment, before he decided he better cow before the man, and he shook his head.
“Good!” Desmond said with a look that, had it been his own child, would have promised a beating in private. “Get over here Littlefinger, we go again.”
There’s that fucking nickname. I thought, a little annoyed. I did not like that name. Mainly because it was meant as a degrading name. If it was a teasing nickname, then I wouldn’t care. But something about it rubbed me the wrong way.
“Yes Ser.” I nodded as I hefted the wooden longsword up in a ready stance.
Desmond turned to me, and motioned for Edmure to move away. “Attack me when you’re ready.” Desmond said as he brought the wooden longsword up.
I’m not gonna lie, the throbbing in my lip caused me to hesitate for a moment. But Desmond did not encourage me nor did he mock me for it. He just stood there still as a statue, waiting.
I began with an overhead chop that was so obviously horrible that it was embarrassing. Desmond deflected it away casually, and I was almost thrown off balance. Desmond took advantage of the opening and sent a slash towards my side.
But it was ridiculously slow. Slow enough for me to recover and block with my sword. I was so shocked that I didn’t attack back.
Skill level up!
Skill level up!
Dismiss. I thought as Desmond took advantage of me not following up.
Once again, it was a very slow strike. Once again I blocked it.
Can’t notifications move to the corner of my vision or something.
Ping! Request Granted!
FFFUUUUCCCKKK YYEEESSS! I celebrated as I tilted my blade and threw the attack off. The notification moved to the top left corner of my vision as I asked.
“Very good. Get used to how your body moves with the weight of the blade.” Desmond said as he moved into another attack. This time it was a stab.
I smiled at the praise, even if I knew he was teaching me like he would an eight year old. The blade was coming towards my chest, and I deflected it towards the air before transitioning into a strike.
Desmond was as quick as ever, though, and parried the blade perfectly before swiping the blade around and slapping me on my ribs. I saw words cycle through the notifications tab on the upper left side of my vision briefly.
“But don’t get cocky now lad! Hahahaha!”
I rolled my eyes at the man as I looked at the notifications that continued to pile up. Pleased, I shook off the blow and attacked the man again.
----------------------------------------
“Ugh.” I groaned as my back hit the ground.
Skill level up!
Pain Tolerance Lvl 30
No pain, no gain!
“That was good for the day Littlefinger.” Desmond said as he appeared leaning over me. “Now, Edmure still has his lesson. This is a good stopping point.” He said as he walked away.
“Wait!” I said as I scrambled to my feet. Desmond turned to me, with a curious look on his face.
“Is there any way to practice by myself, maybe a book or something?” I asked, hoping there was a way to power level swordfighting.
Desmond laughed heartily. “Swordplay isn’t something you can learn from a book boy. It’s something you feel. If you want, you can hit that wooden dummy over there. Other than that, you can familiarize yourself with that bow.” Desmond said pointing at the objects on the other side of the sparring yards.
I looked, and sure enough there were a couple of targets set up about twenty yards away from a stand with a bow hanging off of it. Next to it was a barrel of arrows that was absolutely full.
“Thank you.” I said, barely paying attention to the man walking away from me. I was too engrossed with the bow and arrow.
This is promising. I thought to myself as I walked over to the bow and arrow.
I wasted no time in laying down my wooden longsword and picking up the bow. I pulled on the drawstring, only to find that I could just barely draw the weapon. It took actual effort to draw the string and hold it.
Fuck it, gotta start somewhere. I thought as I carefully let the string go before bending down and picking up an arrow from the barrel beside me.
The feeling of the feathers in my hand was odd. It had been too long since I had felt the tickling sensation. I clumsily put the arrow on the string before doing my best to draw it. I must have looked like a two year old trying to open a door.
Eventually I got it fully drawn and I took aim at the target down range. I didn’t really know how or where to aim at. There wasn’t a sight, like there was on a gun to help for aiming. After a while of indecision, my arms started to ache, so I decided to just shoot straight at the target, and hope for the best.
‘Thwack’
“Mother fucker!” I yelled as a stinging pain slashed across the wrist holding the bow. I dropped the weapon without thinking and my other hand went to the wound to hold it.
My long sleeve shirt had a slash right behind my wrist, showing my skin, which was red and raised but not cut. It was then that I realized that the bow string had hit my wrist, causing it to cut my shirt open and almost draw blood on the other side.
At that moment I was so embarrassed that I looked around the yard waiting to be made fun of. I knew someone would have some smartass remark. Thankfully, nobody had noticed my mishap. Immediately, I did my best to act normal and I bent down to grab the weapon again. My left hand, the injured one was shaking as I picked it up.
Skill created!
Skill level up!
Skill level up!
Skill level up!
Archery Lvl 4!
The ability to shoot a bow and arrow.
Accuracy at 20 Yards or closer: 10%
Accuracy at 21-50 yards: 1%
Accuracy at 51-75 yards: 1%
Accuracy at 76-100 yards: 1%
Locked***
Locked***
Locked***
I studied the new skill curiously. Was the ‘Locked***’ just further distances? Did that mean I was guaranteed to miss at anything longer than 100 yards?
As I was pondering the implications of the skill, I saw a leather band out of the corner of my eye. It was resting on the ground, right beside the arrow bin. I knew what it’s purpose was immediately.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
I reached out and grabbed it before studying it. It was a leather forearm guard, like one you would see…
...FUCKING ARCHERS WEARING!!!
“I really am an idiot sometimes.” I mumbled to myself as I pulled my left sleeve back and slid the leather guard over my forearm. At first, my thumb missed the thumb hole and I had to redo it. Finally, I pulled the straps tight against my skin.
My wound throbbed beneath the leather guard, but I slapped the boiled leather a couple of times to test it.
I felt nothing.
“Now we’re cooking with grease!”
----------------------------------------
When I finally got to my room that night, it was with a full belly, and a tired body. My arms ached, and I could barely raise them above my shoulders.
I used the torch in my hand to light the candles on my desk, and a rushlight on my wall that provided most of the light before snuffing the flame of the one in my hand. I laid on my bed and decided to address the latest notifications.
Food consumed: Chicken, Salmon, Apples, Potatoes.
Nutrition value: High.
Healing boosted by 15% for four hours.
Sustenance required for growing body: Attained!
Growing boosted the next time The Gamer sleeps.
Food is fucking broken. I thought as I stared at the notification.
Stats. I commanded, wondering how far I had progressed for the day.
Petyr Baelish
Strength: 6
Vitality: 3
Dexterity: 7
Intelligence: 16
Wisdom: 14
Skills:
Economics: Lvl 67
Branch of knowledge concerned with the production, consumption, and transfer of wealth.
Manipulation: Lvl 43
Control or influence (A person or situation) cleverly, unfairly, or unscrupulously.
Lying: Lvl 54
The ability to Lie.
Pain Tolerance Lvl 30
No pain, no gain!
Basic Sword Fighting Lvl 6
Defense Lvl 7
Offense Lvl 6
Archery Lvl 10!
The ability to shoot a bow and arrow.
Accuracy at 20 Yards or closer: 10%
Accuracy at 21-50 yards: 1%
Accuracy at 51-75 yards: 1%
Accuracy at 76-100 yards: 1%
Locked***
Locked***
Locked***
I fell asleep, extremely pleased with the progress I had made over the course of a day.
----------------------------------------
There was a rustle at my door. It was hard to perceive anything when I opened my eyes, the room was so dark as the candles were not lit anymore. I had allowed them to burn themselves out.
Then the sound of someone trying to open my door again hit my ears. This caused me to finally push past the sleepiness that still consumed my state of existence. I leapt out of my bed, and reached to grab the knife that laid on my bedside table.
I moved to the door, to surprise whoever it was trying to break in. Was it a knight intent on preserving the honor of his Lord? Was it Edmure? Was it an assassin? I did not know.
Once more someone pushed on the door, but could not open it because of the bar of iron that I had slid across before I went to bed, locking it. A part of me thought about opening the door and surprising my would be attacker, but the longer I sat there and thought about it, the longer I realized I couldn’t.
What if it was Edmure? Or some knight in high standing? I would have no way to prove that I didn’t attack them in cold blood. I would be hung or sent to the wall. There was no way in hell that I would do either of those things. I’d be on a boat to Essos quicker than anyone would realize.
So instead I stood there by my door, holding a knife, waiting for my attacker to bust through the door. In the end, they never did.
I continued to stand there for quite some time before finally having the sense of security to go back to sleep.
----------------------------------------
Food consumed: Bacon, eggs, bread, sausage
Nutrition value: High
Skill experience increased by 10% for the next four hours.
Stat gain increased by 5% for the next four hours.
Hmmm so different foods produce different results. I wonder if meals and time of the day matter also?
I pondered ways to manipulate the system that had become my life as I moved through the halls of Riverrun. My feet were on autopilot as I looked at the map on the bottom left hand side of my vision.
Imagine my surprise this morning when I had asked the game a simple question: Do I have a Hud, and if I do, can I turn it on? Immediately a multitude of different displays had appeared in my vision.
A map at the bottom left hand of my screen, showed the pathways of the castle that I had already discovered, yet didn’t show the ones that I hadn’t. The best part was the dots that walked around and beside me on the map. It showed me how many people were around me, around a corner, etc. In my humble opinion, it was the most broken aspect of the game yet. Suddenly, sneaking around became much more possible.
My health bar appeared at the bottom middle of my vision like a normal game. I also had a stamina bar on the bottom right side of my vision, which was a bit of a surprise. The only other things to appear was a compass at the top right hand of my vision and a number beside what looked like a digital version of a gold dragon.
And the date. The surprise that permeated me when I found out the date. Although the calendar was odd to me. It read: Second Lunar Cycle, Year 278 AC.
It was the year of the Great Tourney at Harrenhal. The year before Robert's Rebellion. That meant a multitude of things didn’t add up in the official Timeline of A Song of Ice and Fire. In consequence, I wasn’t sure if I could trust the dates of major events in my memory were going to be accurate or not.
I pushed the thoughts from my head as I used the map to navigate my way to breakfast, and now I was using it to work my way through the halls on the way to the sparring fields, where I would meet Desmond and Edmure again.
When I arrived, a sword was quickly shoved into my hand by Desmond. He took a stance opposite of me, and we began to dance, once again.
----------------------------------------
‘Thunk’
Bullseye. I thought with a smile.
Skill Level up!
My smile widened even further.
----------------------------------------
I walked slowly towards the kitchens, intent on getting a buff again before going to bed. I was planning on literally eating everything that I could that had any types of nutritional value.
However, as I stepped out of the training yards of Riverrun, I glanced down to my map. There was a curious symbol on it, in the shape of a tree. A white tree on a black field sat over it. It wasn’t until I realized the red dots in the middle of it were eyes that I realized what it was.
The Godswood.
Or rather, a garden in Riverrun that happened to hold a weirwood tree. The south didn’t really worship the Old Gods like those in the north, so there was no reason to make the weirwood tree into anything religious and call it a Godswood. Nonetheless I found my feet heading in that direction.
I soon reached a small opening that represented the entrance. There were no guards, and there was no gate, so I walked on through unhindered. It was a true garden, with flowers and fauna that were obviously well taken care of.
I walked through the well worn paths, taking in the sights on the way to the weirwood. When I found it, I was actually taken aback.
There were only the white branches and red leaves of the weirwood in the vicinity. Grass grew on the dirt around it, but other than that it was untouched by anything else. There was no brush or anything like that to obscure any of the tree. And in front was a single bench for someone to sit on.
I walked straight up to the tree, curious.
My eyes roamed the bark of the trunk until I found the face carved into it. Just like the show and books said, the eyes seemed to follow me. And the oppressive weight of the gaze was almost enough to make me into a believer immediately.
I don’t know why, but I reached out and put a hand on the tree.
Ping!
Path of the Greenseer?
Y/N?
Rewards: Ability to see into the past and present.
Consequences: Forfeiting of the following Paths: ‘Skinchanger’, ‘Father of Dragons’, ‘King of Snakes’, ‘Priest of R’llhor’.
I read through everything quickly, and efficiently. And then I had to read it again, and again before everything clicked.
I could become a greenseer ...easily by selecting yes. But in doing so, I would not be able to do any of what the game called other ‘Paths’. ‘Priest of R’llhor’ was an obvious no, as it would require me to devote myself to a God of Fire, who wasn’t particularly benevolent so that one was out.
It was the other ‘Paths’ that caught my attention.
‘Father of Dragons’, ‘King of Snakes’, and ‘Skinchanger’.
‘Father of Dragons’ seemed fairly straightforward, even though I didn’t think it was possible for someone of my ancestry. It was most likely me being able to hatch and control dragons, like the Valyrians of old did. That was ...a dream come true. The only problem was that I had to get a hold of some dragon eggs. The only options I saw to obtain such items would be to buy some, or find some. I didn’t have near the amount of coin to buy any and I was not traveling to Valyria anytime soon to test my luck either.
‘King of Snakes’ was particularly interesting. First of all, I could only guess at what that meant, but it was from a world that didn’t have anything to do with Westeros, or even planetos for that matter. The ‘King of Snakes’ was a term used in Harry Potter to describe one of the most dangerous beasts in the world… a Basilisk.
And that was a fairly easy recipe to remember. A chicken egg hatched beneath a toad's body. Both items that would be childsplay to obtain immediately.
I quickly decided that trying to hatch dragons would be nearly impossible, so I threw ‘Father of Dragons’ out of my option list.
But ‘Skinchanger’ was nothing to throw away either. For example, what if one could skinchange into a dragon, or a basilisk? Would it not already make it the most powerful magical ability in this world?
So I had a very hard choice to make, become a Greenseer and develop a massive advantage of information over any opponent I might have. Try and hatch a basilisk, and become the King of Snakes. I would not only immediately have a beast on par with a dragon in terms of deadliness, but I would also be able to harvest it’s venom to sell. I could introduce a completely new magical beast into the land also. Or try and develop my warging powers on the off chance that I could become powerful enough to steal a dragon from Dany…
Choices, choices...
As I sat there and read the words of the ‘Quest’, I came to a decision.
‘No.’ I selected finally.
When the prompt disappeared, I immediately put my hand back on the weirwood.
Ping!
Path of the Greenseer?
Y/N?
Rewards: Ability to see into the past, present, and future.
Consequences: Forfeiting of the following Paths: ‘Skinchanger’, ‘Father of Dragons’, ‘King of Snakes’, ‘Priest of R’llhor’.
‘No.’ I selected once again as I let my hand drop. ‘At least I know that I can come back and select Greenseer if I fail at the other options.’
That’s really all it came down to, convenience. If I could actually hatch a basilisk, and tame it then I would live with the decision and choose ‘King of Snakes’. If I couldn’t do that, then I would try warging. My last choice would be becoming a Greenseer for the sheer inconvenience of trying to find a dragon egg.
With a plan of action, I turned on my heels and continued to walk towards the kitchens, intent on eating my way into a buff coma, and also stealing a chicken egg.
Plans swirled around my head, the entire time.
----------------------------------------
It soon became obvious to me that I hadn’t paid for a single thing during my time spent in this world. The reasoning was also easy to decipher, I had no money. None as in zero. Beyond that, it was a convenience of being in Riverrun fostering under the Lord. When a Lord offers to foster a child, he takes on the role of being the guardian for the child during the duration of their stay.
It’s actually a brilliant strategy for both parties. On one side, the Lord raises someone that will be loyal to him for the rest of their lives, if done right. On the other, a lesser Lord gets a fantastic education for his son and allows for said son to develop a relationship with a very powerful man. It creates alliances, and solidifies friendships.
But it also meant that I was completely dependent on Hoster Tully. I absolutely despise being dependent on anyone, a holdover from my past life and years of adulthood ingrained into my brain.
This fact had also been making me rethink my speech to Hoster. I knew it was mostly lies when I said them, but I was new to this world and hadn’t really had time to process what was going on or to plan for anything. So I had tried to get back into his good graces, for opportunities in the future.
Now, however? I realized that I was indeed already a Lord. My nickname of Littlefinger should have made me realize this sooner. Baelish Castle was on the easter coast of Westeros, under the jurisdiction of the Vale, and it’s current ruler Jon Arryn. There were only ‘a couple of acres’ if the books were to be believed, but how much was ‘a couple’. Because if it was truly something under ten acres, then I might as well never return there.
But if ‘a couple’ to Westeros Lords was actually a couple thousand, then I could definitely make that work. More information would be needed to make a decision.
One thing became obvious to me though. I had to get out from under Hoster Tully’s thumb, or I had to make him so indebted to me that he gifted me land. Either way the most obvious path forward was also the hardest one.
I would have to join Robert's Rebellion. And with the year being 278 AC, that meant I had a year to prepare myself. I would need to become an amazing fighter in a year, to impress the Lords in the war, and achieve knighthood. From there, I would be able to prepare for when the White Walkers decided to make their move.
There is so much work to do.