Part 6Traveling with a group of around twenty guys wasn't as big a hassle as I would have thought. We rode at a calm pace, covering dozens of miles alongside the White Knife river. As we did, Morgan helped keep us abreast of how things were going for Jon Arryn.
Eddard was worried about the old man, it was easy to tell even under his stoic demeanor. Mid-way through the journey, I made a suggestion that I think he was about to hit me for.
"You should stop writing to Jon Arryn and write a letter to Winterfell."
"Excuse me?" Eddard snapped his head towards me, glaring. We were riding side by side when Morgan flew back to join us, landing on my shoulder with a letter from Jon Arryn. And when I saw Eddard reading what had to be one of the shortest updates yet, I knew I had to say something.
"Jon's-"
"Lord Arryn, you mean." Eddard snapped, looking his age for once. Well, our age.
"Fine. Lord Arryn's letters to you are getting shorter because he doesn't have anything new to say or add. At this point, the only thing you will learn from his letter is he's won and Robert Baratheon fulfilled his promise of shoving his warhammer up Marq Grafton's-"
"Do not finish that sentence."
I rolled my eyes. "You wrote maybe three letters to Winterfell while we were on the water. Morgan can fly there and back in a day and get them started on gathering the North. I know you are worried, but focus on what you can do, not on what might be happening."
He scowled. After a moment, he simply rode ahead faster, joining Wylis instead of me. I sighed and fell back to join Poison. She was standing on the rail of the wagon Hugo was riding in, using the rocking wagon like a balance beam as we rode towards Winterfell.
"That turn out how you imagined?" She teased.
"Of all the things people mention about Ned Stark, him being a moody bitch doesn't get brought up as much."
She snorted, stumbling just a bit before regaining her footing. "Well, you tried. He'll either listen or he won't."
"Yeah. Guess so."
I looked around. While the immense chill of winter was coming in, things were still relatively serene. Back in my home world, I'd rarely ever lived outside of cities, but I did spend time in the countryside of Morocco. Different countryside of course, but still a similar serenity. And at night, the same beautiful night sky. Well, different stars, but still very clear.
"I'm so bored," Poison said, cutting off my thought process. "Why can't we get attacked by bandits or something?"
"A group of bandits attacking twenty armed knights is either going to heavily outnumber us or be immensely stupid," I snorted. Then I thought about it and looked around again. When no one attacked, I relaxed.
"Well I hope that internal roulette wheel you have summons a walkman at some point," Poison did a backflip that left a couple of the guys agape in surprise.
"Weren't you playing the flute before?"
"You know how hard it is to learn an instrument without a teacher?"
I chuckled. "Well, if you're lucky, maybe I'll find one. Or summon Led Zeppelin."
Poison arched an eyebrow at me. "You know Led Zeppelin is a band, not one guy, right?"
"They are?" I blinked. "Ah, my bad."
"Fucking philistine," she teased without any real heat. When she did another backflip, hair glittering in the light, I swallowed just a bit.
Look man. Poison is hot. I could focus on our weird mentor and mentee/boss and employee relationship, but then I'd catch a flash of skin or see her bite her lip and my brain went fuzzy.
Thank god for Eddard. The young Stark Lord rode back to join me with another letter. Morgan, chewing on a pizza made just for her, looked at it with distaste.
"Give Morgan a bit, Lord Stark, she needs some rest." I said calmly.
Eddard nodded. "I know. When she can… have her bring this to Winterfell."
Thank god for Eddard not being a moron.
Then he stared at the pizza box resting next to Hugo suspiciously, before eyeing the crow-sized pizza Morgan was eating.
"What… I thought that ran out of pizza?" He asked hesitantly.
"I made more in the Manderly kitchens." I lied freely. "Actually, when we get to Winterfell, you should let me cook for you."
"You can cook?" He asked, turning to look at me. He was a lot more surprised about it than I expected. "I thought the food you had brought was made by your servants."
"Some, but a lot by me. I'm quite adept at it actually. Just not much room to do it in a boat."
When we got to Winterfell, they had already begun the process of gathering Eddard's banners. Which was a chaotic mesh of things I just didn't have any way to process. When we got to the gates, we were immediately broken up into groups.
Also. Winterfell was stupid big. New Castle was already huge, but Winterfell was less of a castle and more of a city surrounding a castle, with tall walls, insane towers, and a giant keep in the center of all the bullshit.
I could tell, looking at it, that it had been made by either a genius or a wizard. Or both. Also, it was confirmation I was in the books, not the show, since the tv show had much more reasonably sized structures. Which… I wasn't sure what that entailed beyond everything being fuck all huge. I'd need to unpack that.
Eddard got rushed into his solar, where he directed things with servants rushing around the castle. Wylis and his men were guided along with me into the main hall, along with the small army of people already there. Wylis, as one of the heirs to a major house, was treated with full respect.
I, on the other hand, got to see a fun meeting.
"You are one big potato!" Hugo said happily in the courtyard of Winterfell, looking down at the man across from him. He didn't have to look down as much as usual though.
"So are you," the other man said, smiling. Walder, the giant of Winterfell, was one hell of a unit. In another world, he would be called Hodor, a barely functioning man the size of a small bear. Here, he looked much more mentally together… and was still the size of a small bear.
Hugo only had a couple of inches and maybe fifty pounds on him, and that was insane considering how much of Hugo was pure fucking muscle.
"What is a potato?" Walder asked a moment later.
Hugo grinned, but I cut him off before he could continue. "He's not wrong. You're the second biggest person I've ever seen now. What do they feed you, entire pigs?"
Walder chuckled, running a hand through his short beard. He wore simple clothing like the other servants, and seemed to have a permanent smile attached to his face. "Thank you. Now, Ne-" He paused. "I mean, Lord Stark asked me to share my clothes with you. I have some that no one else can use, and my Nan can fix any of it if you need."
"Thank you!" Hugo said boisterously, clapping Walder on the shoulder. "And I can teach you about the importance of potatoes."
The two walked away. And I leaned over to nudge Poison, who had gone completely still at the sight of Walder gigantic form. "Down, girl."
"Eh!?" Poison jumped, then clenched a fist. "Did you see how big he was!? Imagine what a crowd I could bring in if I marketed him wrestling Hugo! Two giants, dueling in the arena, fighting to the death!"
"The dea-?"
"The metaphorical death!" She said loudly and excitedly. "Do you know how many people are even close to Hugo's size?"
"Zangief, Abigail, Sagat-"
"Okay, two of those are shorter, and I'm convinced Abigail's mom fucked a planet."
I chuckled. "As for wrestling? Hey, why not, right? I say, just approach him, let him know it's for fun and not a serious death match thing. Walder doesn't strike me as a violent type, and his Nan might be cool with it if she knows it's a job and not actually being a soldier."
"A whole new wrestling league," Poison clenched her other fist, eyes practically sparkling. "I could start with Hugo and Walder, get some speedy types, build some storylines. I need to set it somewhere though, maybe that King's Landing place?"
"King's Landing smells like shit."
"Just like Metro City then!"
I let her go off, mumbling as we continued walking through Winterfell. The place was abuzz with noise and people. I could see a few banners already, including one of a bear, another of a man with no skin, being unfurled and prepared.
"You mind if I go after Hugo and Walder?" Poison asked, giving me a hopeful look. "Run the idea past them real quick?"
"Sure."
"You gonna be okay on your own?" She asked.
"I'll be fine. I'm heading to the kitchens. Eddard gave me permission, and I've got some ideas."
In said kitchen's, people were preparing food for the large number of people currently running around/coming to the castle. They moved very professionally, putting together meals and such. When I entered, in my full armor, the servants barely flinched, simply continuing to buzz around at high speed.
"Who be you, milord?" One older man, the head chef presumably, asked, looking at me with narrowed eyes.
"Peter Baelish," I answered, looking around. "Eddard Stark gave me permission to come down and share some recipes with you all."
His eyebrow raised and he looked me up and down. "A noble who cooks?"
Oh, so that's why Eddard thought it was weird. "I ain't much of a noble. Besides, I'm a good cook, and I have some recipes that will keep for a long time in winter or on the warpath."
The chef still seemed iffy, but he shrugged. "All 'ight then. I'm Gage, milord. How can I help you?"
"By telling me if I'm being stupid or sharing something you already know," I stripped off my armored gloves. "And by helping me remove my chestplate so I can put on an apron and get to work."
Once I was dressed and a servant took my armor away to my designated room, I started working next to Gage. First, with getting food together to prep for the big meeting. There were some simple ones, like just straight up cooking sausages in pans or seasoning and roasting chicken, rabbit, and deer.
I worked fast, moving from dish to dish, acting like a professional line cook. Gage was yelling in the background as I cooked, waving a big ass spoon around, but didn't seem to have much reason to yell at me. And as we worked, I started teaching him a bit.
"They call it pemmican," I said while crimping the edges of a pie. "Comes from a nation of tribesmen, really. It's a combination of dried meat, fat, and sometimes has various nuts and berries added for flavor. With some work, you can make a little brick of pure energy that will last through months of travel, or for years and years if stored in a dry place, is better tasting than just salting beef, and will keep soldiers fed for a lot longer. The recipe-"
Later, while I was chopping through vegetables, I continued. "-Called portable soup. You can keep stacks of it, and when you want to feed soldiers, just add hot water and you're good to go. It's only got two ingredients, but it's complicated. With some practice, you can make plenty of it, and the soldiers will appreciate it. Now, hardtack. That's a type of bread that will last forever. When you make it, it'll seem stale, but a bit of hot water will bring it back to life, and it's a great food for soldiers on the go."
A bit later, Gage and I talked over my philosophy while we fried some sausages. "Food is everything," I said respectfully. "It connects all of us. More than language, more than morals, more than almost everything. Only the gods don't have to eat. The rest of us can always share a good meal and know we're in good company."
"Aye, that is true," Gage said, nodding. "Always thought twas why guest rights were done with food. Men who don't speak the same words can always break bread together, eh?"
"One hundred percent."
"What?"
"Oh, uh, that means yes." Right, mathematics weren't a thing for the general population. "Another thing is that an army marches on its stomach. Which isn't just because hungry men don't fight as well, but men who eat food they enjoy fight better as well. A man who has had food he loves, well, he's just going to do much better in a fight."
Gage humored that obvious little fact with a nod. He'd stopped me a couple of times when I tried to 'share' a recipe he already knew intimately, but he seemed to appreciate most of what I told him. Hopefully he'd be able to make use of the ones he hadn't known, like how to make pasta and dry it.
I finished up the sausages and looked around. While the kitchen was well made, and the servants knew what they were doing, there were some things that needed improvement. Tools and such, as well as basic hygiene, thought I'd need to check if they had soap. That could come with time though.
"Speaking of feeding the men, I have a few dishes I want to add to the meal. If you don't mind?"
"I'll have to test them," Gage said, wincing. "Need to make sure you ain't poisoning any of it."
Fair point. He had kept a close eye on things, which I didn't mind. "Sure thing. Let me introduce you to the concept of 'pizza', then I'll teach you how to make pretzels."
I cheated a bit. I did explain how pizza worked, but a few of the ingredients were impossible. So I used the pizza box to make a standard cheese pizza with tomato sauce.
What is the point of a magic pizza box if I can't use it, right? Gage didn't seem to know what to make of me leaving the kitchen and coming back with a full pizza on a big wooden plate, but didn't question me beyond eating it.
We did also make a big pizza with olive oil, garlic, cheese, and dough, all Westeros foods, then pretzels with the correct ratios this time, since my adept cooking now showed where I went wrong.
By the time we were finished, it was already night. I left Gage with a handshake and a promise to come back to personally revisit the recipes.
And the second I left-
Click!
[Accolade for your house: pizzaiolo]
A Bronze step of many Faces appears before you. The step is yours to take.
Click!
[Accolade for your house: Cooking for survival]
A Split Gold step of many Faces appears before you. The choice is yours to make.
A ticket at the highest level I seemed to get for sharing survival recipes, and another for giving pizza as a recipe to an actual chef. Except, why was the 'golden' ticket described as 'split'?
I headed out of the castle. Rather than using the gates and possibly getting spotted, instead, I jumpedas I approached a low building.
And shot upwards like my legs were made of springs. I didn't display my jumping too often, but a combination of my training with Poison, caveman strength, and my Belmont trait gave me a fantastic vertical. I landed on the roof, then leaped again, running along the roof tops and jumping between them until I was on top of the wall. I jumped down and slid down the wall for a good distance before leaping outwards again, landing crossed arms first into a big pile of snow and rolling out to land outside the walls.
Once I had some privacy, I hit the first ticket, hesitantly.
And-
[Iron Mine]
[Uncommon World]
An iron mine that will automatically place itself wherever you rip the voucher. You may place it at a location of your choosing, and the ore veins within will replenish daily and never run dry. Be careful, it will replace preexisting things below its entrance.
"Oh, cool!" I blinked, thinking on that. An ore mine was a big deal for a community. It meant an abundance of work was available, as well as money and resources for the owner.
I wondered, for a moment, where the ore pit had appeared back home.
Umfred
Umfred, on a whim, went for a walk. He did it from time to time, traveling the peat bogs, the rocket terrain, through the village, visiting people. He stopped by Grisel, Petyr's former wet nurse and currently the woman who dealt with his finances while he was gone, Kella, a shepherd who took the lead on the livestock of Petyr's lands, and Bryen, the leader of what few guards Petyr had.
Once Umfred continued, he headed to the rockier parts of Petyr's land, taking in the fresh air and the beautiful land. With his lord gone, he was appointed the Castellan, a role he took seriously, yes, but a role that didn't require as much oversight as larger or more prosperous lands. He could enjoy the peace, the quiet, the sudden feeling of stones falling away under his feet as he dropped into darkness-
"SEVEN ABOVE-" Umfred squealed as the ground fell away beneath him, dropping him down into a hole that he could have sworn, in his dances of living and working the Baelish lands, had not been there before. He slammed into the ground about fifteen feet down, landing somewhat safely, if slightly bruised. Looking around, he was now in a small section of some sort of natural cave formation. For a moment, he was worried he was trapped, but thankfully one of the walls of the cave had somewhat solid stones in a slope leading up and out.
Rising to his feet, he walked over to one of the walls while brushing dirt from himself and went to climb.
Then he saw the glitter in the stones. For a moment, he just stared at the clear vein of ore shining inside the wall.
"Somehow, this is Lord Baelish's fault," he said with absolute certainty.
Seven's, this was going to lead to so much paperwork.
Peter Baelish
Now, for the golden roll. A split one, so-called? What did that mean?
I hit it. And internally, that strange sensation of rolling inside my soul was doubled. Which I did not like. It felt like my heart and my stomach were boxing with each other as my brain took the damage.
When it stopped, it landed on tworesults.
[ Enchanted Golden Apple]
|Rarity: Rare Item|
Minecraft - A magical apple with skin resembling gold that has been enchanted with magic, eating it gives the eater rare level regeneration for one hour and also bolsters their vitality. Restock Timer: 210 Hours
-or-
[Warrior of Sunlight]
|Elite Trait|
Dark Souls - You are a Warrior of Sunlight, a Warrior that praises the sun and devotes their faith in it, receiving powers in return. As a Warrior of Sunlight, you possess increased vitality. In addition, all Lightning and Fire-based abilities are slightly more potent and carry traces of sunlight within them, further increasing their potency against Undead and Dragons. Beings aligned with the Sun and Light may favor you more.
Ah. Or was the key word. I had to choose. Damn, it would have been cool to keep both!
Still, I knew immediately which was the right choice. The apple was great, but I already had the Resident Evil herbs. If I wanted something more consistently useful…
I internally tapped the Warrior of Sunlight. I wasn't sure if I actually had to praise the sun and worship it, but with the possibility of fighting both undead and dragons, I would need the boost. Hopefully just standing with my arms out was enough to count.
And hey. Now I was a sun bro!
Now for getting back. I turned and looked up at the walls. The extremely sheer, extremely tall, Winterfell walls.
Damn you, George, and your inability to make realistically sized castles.
I turned and walked towards the main gate, rather than trying to climb back up. When I reached the gates, the guards stared at me as I approached, brushing the snow off my clothes.
"Baelish?" One of the guards asked, looking around in confusion. "When did you leave?"
"About five minutes ago." I answered honestly, striding past the two men. "At ease boys, the defenses are still good."
They let me through, completely befuddled, but otherwise not stopping me. Though I was stopped on my way through the courtyard by an older man.
"Ser!" He moved over to me with a lot more speed than I would have expected from a guy his age. "You are Petyr Baelish?"
I nodded, looking him over. He was balding, with wrinkles across his face and some spots on his cheeks. He wore a warm looking grey cloak, and had some chains around his neck, marking him as-
"Maester Luwin?" I asked as we met in the middle. "Yes, I'm Peter. How may I help you?"
He smiled, looking positively gleeful. "So you are the one who sent us the healing herbs?"
Oh shit. I'd nearly forgotten. "Yes, I did! Are they proving useful?"
Luwin's smile widened. "Yes, yes, come! I must speak with you about them."
He walked off, leaving me standing there for a second before I shrugged and followed.
Maester Luwin was a nerd. That was unsurprising, but it was fun. He sat me down in his tower office, where he had set up a section just for the herbs I had sent out to Winterfell months ago. His eyes panned across me, seeming to almost see into me he was so intense about it, those grey eyes eager for knowledge.
Funnily enough, Luwin was apparently very new to being Winterfell's maester. The previous guy, some dude named Walys, had died, with Luwin quickly getting brought in before Rickard uh… headed off to get offed.
"I have tested the herbs in a series of experiments my order has devised in the past to discover the properties of plants," he said, gesturing to the section of table. I could see herb leaves that had been dissected, crushed, mixed into chemicals, and the plants themselves set up in pots in the sunlight. "They are truly miraculous medicinal herbs. I've tested cuts from the men in the yard with the green herb applied, and they've healed in a matter of days! Where did you get them?"
"From a man in Gulltown who claimed they were herbs out of Old Valyria," I lied. "I find that unlikely, but the actual herbs are incredible."
"Indeed," Luwin nodded. He took out a journal from one of his many pockets. "I wished to go over the uses I've found for them, to discover if our findings were similar?"
I winced. Ah. Nerd talk. "Okay. Go ahead."
Luwin beamed, then began talking. "I began my tests with some rats I found within the castle grounds, using the green herbs on their cuts, and testing varieties of poisons with the blue herbs added-"
Turns out, the Maester had figured out a lot. Coming from a medieval world didn't make him an idiot after all, and even by modern standards Luwin was far from an idiot. He had figured out a lot of stuff I didn't explain to others, like combining the herbs in the right mixture to improve their performance, the use of red herb as a catalyst, and yellow's potent properties.
He also figured out a lot of shit I didn't know, like the use of certain chemicals to improve the performance of the herbs. I wasn't a chemist, so I wasn't the most helpful there, but he still seemed pleased with a lot of my answers. He seemed to enjoy teaching as much as learning.
By the time we were done, he was filling his fifth or sixth page on his journal and continuing his work. "Sadly, I won't be able to grow the herb in quite as large numbers as you will. Winterfell is not the most conductive for the growth of these plants, and the glass garden is not large enough for farming at scale without sacrificing some food plots."
He was referencing the greenhouse that Winterfell had for food in the winter, as well as flowers and such. I was under the impression the greenhouse had been made by Ned for Catelyn, but it turned out it had been there for generations.
"Still better than nothing," I said, nodding. "Oh, actually, speaking of farming, you should talk to my manservant, Hugo."
Look, I needed to title him something. And one thing no one questioned was me making that big guy my manservant. Better than Poison, who I still called my servant/dancing instructor.
"Hugo?" Luwin asked, confused.
"He's got a root vegetable I think you'll be most interested in growing," I said firmly. "And he's an expert in it. Just uh, don't expect him to be the most knowledgeable on other topics. Potatoes, beating heads, and wrestling are his maester chains, if they gave chains for such things."
Luwin chuckled. "Ah, he sounds like quite the man." Glancing out the window, he gestured to the door. "For now, I believe we have a banquet to attend. Amazing how time flies during a spirited conversation, does it not?"
Nerd. But I liked him.
And then, before I could leave the room-
Click!
[Accolade for your house: Northern science.]
A one notched step of many faces appears before you. The step is yours to take.
One day I'd get a sense for why these tickets popped up so that they wouldn't surprise me.
The banquet went into full swing, with men and women alike devouring food at the tables. The pizza I had summoned disappeared very quickly, along with the actual food I'd made. It was fun, seeing big dudes in furs and leathers acting like little kids while eating.
I was sat one table down from where Eddard had been placed at the head of the tables, with Poison on my right, and Hugo on my left. While I was technically a 'noble' and I had been given some respect for helping Ned get to Winterfell, the table Eddard was sitting at had to have the bigger nobles at it.
Fine by me. Just important enough that I couldn't be dismissed, not so important that I had a spotlight on me.
Across from us, Walder was devouring as much as we were, with a big wave of food disappearing into our bellies. Well, two of us were giants, one was a Street Fighter, and I was a growing boy.
"It's rare I see anyone eat like one of my people!" Someone said, dragging my attention upwards to the speaker. Another giant of a man.
I stared up at him, then looked at Walder and Hugo. "You come out of the same bed as my friends here, Ser?"
The man grinned. "I was about to ask the same thing!" He sat down with us, next to Walder, and grabbed a big drumstick of chicken merrily. "You're the Baelish lad, right?"
"Yes. And you're Lord Greatjon Umber," I looked him up and down. He was as tall as Walder, but even more muscular, almost as much as Hugo, which was surprising as hell. He had a wide easy grin on his face, and nodded with some pride as he devoured a chicken leg like a raving wolf.
"That I am, lad!" He winked at me. "I've only met two men my size. I had to visit when I saw a third."
Hugo grinned, waving just a bit. "Hello!"
Poison was looking from Jon, to Walder, to Hugo, and I swear she had dollar signs in her eyes. "Have you ever thought about wrestling?"
Jon blinked, looking confused for a second. I spoke up.
"Poison is putting together a group of wrestling men." I looked at Walder. "Speaking of which…"
Walder nodded firmly with a slow smile, while Poison looked unbearably smug. "Old Nan said it was okay, since it's for fun, and not a real fight! After the war though."
"After the war," Poison nudged my side. "We better end it quick, huh? So we can focus on the real things."
Jon chuckled. "I like that, milady. Finishing a war quick."
"That's always the plan, ain't it?" Poison asked with a wink.
I glanced over at Ned. He was speaking to a dour looking man in fur coats, looking serious as always. "We'll win. But the only way it'll be quick is if we work our arses off."
Hugo nodded wisely, even as he devoured what had to be a pound of beef in a mere second. Poison eyed me for a moment, but didn't let on to whatever she was thinking.
"Speaking of fighting," Greatjon said, a glint in his eye. "I hear you're an odd sort of fighter, Baelish."
"Heard from who, a raven?" I asked, frowning. "The only one I fought was Lord Stark in a duel."
"Aye. And to hear it, you did well!" Jon grinned, the glint in his eye still there. "Better than you did against his brother."
I scoffed, unbothered. "A dying weasel would have done better than me that day. I've been training for months since and I can barely keep up with Eddard."
"Months?" Jon grinned. "Now isn't that interesting. In only a few months, you went from being destroyed in a duel by Brandon, to evenly fighting his brother. The way the Manderly men described it, you fought in a way they had never seen before. Except one man seemed to compare you to a Yi Ti fighter he'd once seen."
The glint in his eye was becoming more dangerous by the second. "And before that, you simply appear to aid our lord, in a time of great need, when no one else could find him, speeding him away on a ship. All with no one knowing how or why."
"Is there a shortcut we can take between here and your point, Greatjon Umber?" I asked pointedly.
Poison watched the conversation lazily, playing with a knife she had been using to cut into her steak. Hugo and Walder didn't seem to realize anything was going on, simply continuing to eat.
"Just looking out for the Lord," Jon glanced up towards Eddard, who was talking to someone I didn't know. "He's new to this. And he's all 'honorable' like Vale knights he trained with, speaks about paying back depts, doing what is right. Instead what is smart." Jon smiled just a bit. "I worry someone might take advantage. Leave him to trust the wrong sort."
I smiled. "Yeah. That's why the first thing I told him was not to trust me."
I looked him over. "Tell you what. Give me time tomorrow, and I'll show the training I've gone through, the plans I have, and what I can offer to this war. And if you think I'm trying to trick Eddard, we can have a duel over it."
He scoffed. "I suppose Brandon didn't teach you a lesson about dueling men stronger than you."
"Oh, he did." I winked. "I learned to only fight guys I'm certain I can actually fight."
Greatjon snorted, letting out a deep belly laugh, with Hugo joining in a moment later.
We ate well that night, with a bit of a partying atmosphere. No music or dancing, sadly, but that was just what a party in the North was like.
Tomorrow, I'd finally approach Ned about training with us.