Brienne felt extremely awkward as Dany and her two companions approached. A blush crept from her cheeks to her neck. The man, mistaking her embarrassment for shyness, pressed on with enthusiasm:
"I know you liked Renly—I knew back at Bitterbridge. I'm not as handsome as him, not as rich, nor as highborn, but I've got two advantages he'll never have.
First, I haven't had my throat slit—being alive always beats being dead. Second, I'm capable. I swear to you, I've already got at least one confirmed bastard daughter. But don't worry, I won't let the girl trouble you.
I just want to say—marriage would benefit us both. I get land and a title, and you get…"
He gestured at the room full of children running about.
"…all this in a castle."
Brienne flushed with a mix of shame and anger. "Don't say that! My father is only fifty-four. That's not too old. He can remarry and have sons."
"There's a risk in everything. If your father remarries, if the bride gets pregnant, if she bears a son, then sure—I've backed the wrong horse.
But what do you lose in that?
You're a maiden, probably don't understand how things work between men and women. Once you've tried it, you'll see it all differently.
In the dark, you're as beautiful as any princess, and I'll treat you like one.
Tonight, don't lock your door. I'll sneak into your bed and prove my point." He added, teasingly.
Damn, this guy is sleazy!
Brienne couldn't stand the shame any longer. She snapped angrily, "If you try anything, I'll turn you into a eunuch by morning."
"There are guests." The quiet brown-haired, blue-eyed boy beside them softly reminded.
The man leaned back in his chair and looked up, spotting Dany. His eyes lit with astonishment at her beauty, but eventually his gaze landed on the long chain around Perestan's neck.
"By the Seven… a maester? You're Maester Perestan! I've seen you in the Citadel. What are you doing here?"
The man had a head full of thick, messy brown hair, a long thin scar near his left ear, a cleft chin, and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken too many times.
"And you are…" The old maester squinted. Then, noticing the sigil on the man's chestplate—a brown dead stag strung from a horizontal pole—he recalled, "You're Ser Hael Hunt of Hornvale. Spent two years at the Citadel but spelled your father's name wrong—'Pig-Head' Hunt."
"Cough cough… That was an accident," Hael replied awkwardly.
"You're Lady Brienne of Tarth?" the old maester turned to her. "How did you two end up together?"
"You know me?" Brienne asked, curious.
"With that face? One of a kind," the old man replied with biting sarcasm.
"Uh…" Brienne looked down, blushing again.
Brienne stood nearly two meters tall, with broad shoulders and a flat chest—her pectoral muscles more prominent than her breasts. Her face was round and coarse, covered in freckles. Her nose had been broken multiple times and now sat crookedly. Her teeth were jagged and uneven, her wide mouth nearly reached her ears, and her thick lips resembled fat caterpillars. Her yellow hair was like dirty straw—dry and brittle.
Truly… unique.
"What are you doing here, Maester?" Hael asked.
"Heading north. Beyond the Wall. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch sent word—White Walkers have been sighted. I'm representing the Cit—"
Dany cut him off. "Don't credit the Citadel. When it comes to White Walkers, the maesters failed completely. Haven't done a single thing right."
The red-nosed old man rubbed his nose, found a chair near the fireplace, set down his pack, and said no more.
"White Walkers? You're talking about White Walkers?" Brienne and Hael both looked skeptical. "Are you reciting fairytales?"
Dany shrugged, brushing past the topic. She asked Brienne, "Are you searching for Sansa Stark in the Riverlands?"
"Who are you? How do you know—" Brienne started in surprise, then quickly shook her head. "I'm not looking for Lady Sansa."
"Come on, you ask everyone you meet, 'Have you seen a red-haired maiden? Thirteen years old, very pretty'..." Hael sighed. "Pretty sure everyone in the Riverlands knows Brienne of Tarth is looking for Sansa Stark."
"What's your next move?" Dany asked again.
"I'm not saying," Brienne replied stubbornly.
"Heh. Who's this boy?" Dany nodded toward the shy brown-haired youth.
"I'm Podrick Payne, Lady Brienne's squire."
Hael eyed Dany suspiciously. "Miss, you haven't introduced yourself yet."
Dany walked to the window. The river rushed beneath the night sky. Her right hand rested on her sword hilt as the wind blew through her shadowcat cloak, casting a lonely silhouette. She sighed,
"A solitary shadow by the cold river,Old friends in a drifting world—Why cling to names when we meet again?"
Brienne…Barristan…The old maester…
Everyone stood silent for a moment.
"…What are you saying?" Hael asked, bewildered.
"You really don't get it? I don't want to give you my real name, but I also don't want to lie, so I'm asking you not to push further."
"Uh… is that what it meant?" Hael looked even more confused.
Maester Perestan broke the awkward silence. "Ser Hael, I recall you were a knight under Lord Tarly. Why are you here?"
"I'm courting Lady Brienne."
"Courting her lands, more like," Dany mocked.
"You're very beautiful, my lady. Many would pursue you for that alone. How is it any different from me pursuing Lady Brienne for her inheritance?"
Shameless as he was, Hael did have a point.
"Dinner's ready, kids! Time to eat!"
Soon after, Willow entered the hall, her small body letting out a thunderous shout. The rowdy children quickly sat obediently at two long tables away from the fireplace, wide-eyed and staring toward the kitchen.
"You'll eat at this table," Willow pointed to the empty one near the fireplace, addressing Dany and her companions.
"Where's your sister Jenny? A place this big, and no adults around?" Dany asked.
"She brought back some trout this afternoon and went out again later."
As she spoke, a grey-haired old man came from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot. Behind him followed several half-grown boys, about eleven or twelve, bringing dishes, wooden bowls, and loaves of fragrant black bread.
Supper was simple: a pot of turnip-barley porridge, a platter of fried trout, and a bowl of lamb stew with carrots and alfalfa.
As the food was laid out, the old man introduced himself to Dany and her group: Meribald, a barefoot septon from the Riverlands. He couldn't read or write, but he had the entire Seven-Pointed Star and many prayers memorized.
He was tall—over six feet—with large hands and feet, skin tough as leather, and a face weathered by the elements.
For forty years, he had roamed the countryside of the Riverlands in loops, starting from Nüquan Town and ending at Nüquan City. One full circuit took about half a year.
He officiated weddings and confessions for the common folk, and in return, the locals provided him with food and shelter.
During years of famine, he even drove a donkey cart from Nüquan Town to deliver food to the poor in the villages along the way.
Tonight's dinner of pickled lamb, barley, and cheese had been provided by the old man.
—He was a true monk, much like the Great Sparrow.
Dany thought.
"You carry food with you while traveling. Aren't you afraid of being robbed?" she asked curiously.
"I have 'Doggie,'" Brother Meribald replied with a smile, calling out. A massive yellow dog, the size of a calf, bounded over, affectionately leaning against the old man and curiously eyeing Dany.
"Whoa, what a clever dog!" Dany said in surprise, seeing the human-like intelligence in its eyes.
"Doggie is formidable. Last time I ran into a wolf pack in the Elmwood, he bit more than a dozen of them to death in an instant." Brother Meribald stroked the back of the dog's neck proudly.
"Do wolf packs appear often?" Barristan asked with a frown.
"They're led by a giant she-wolf. She's been roaming the Trident for the past two years, and even the nobles can't deal with her." Brother Meribald nodded.
The old knight exchanged a glance with Dany but didn't press the matter further.
Before dinner, Brother Meribald looked at Willow and asked, "May I lead the children in a prayer before the meal?"
"You may."
So they all bowed their heads together to thank the Father and the Mother for their blessings—Dany and Archmaester Perestan included.
However, a black-haired boy of about fifteen or sixteen stood off to the side, arms crossed, glaring at the others as they prayed.
Once the prayer ended, Dany looked at him curiously. "Kid, are you from the North?"
"I'm from King's Landing," the boy replied casually, brushing aside a lock of hair.
"Then you don't follow the Old Gods either?"
"I believe in the Lord of Light."
"You, child—" Barristan stared at him, expression shifting drastically. He glanced sideways at Dany and asked quietly, "Who is your father?"
"I don't know."
The old knight looked toward Hyle and Brienne, hesitated for a long time, but ultimately didn't voice the question in his heart.
But Dany, noticing the change in his expression, felt a spark of suspicion. She asked, "What's your name, boy?"
The youth fixed his blue eyes on her. "Why are you asking?"
"He's Gendry, a blacksmith," a scrawny little boy piped up from the side.
Gendry.Dany instantly understood. This was Arya's lover, Robert Baratheon's bastard. No wonder the white knight seemed to suspect something about him.
"Smack!" Willow tapped the little boy on the head with her spoon. "Big Mouth Ben, it's time to eat. Stop interrupting the grown-ups!"
At her words, the children swarmed the table like hungry wolves. In no time, the hall was filled with the sounds of chewing and Willow smacking the kids with her spoon.
Throughout dinner, Dany continued to question Brother Meribald about the situation in the Trident.
She found he knew every town and manor in the Riverlands like the back of his hand—even nameless villages, fences, hills, brooks, caves, and rugged paths that didn't appear on any map.
"Brother Meribald, do you think the people of the Riverlands can survive this winter?"
"They cannot. Many don't even have stored grain. It'll be hard for them to last a full year," the old monk said worriedly.
An idea began to form in Dany's mind. "If I need to find you again, where should I go?"
"What for?" the old monk asked, puzzled.
To make you head of the Red Cross!
"I'm planning to send a shipment of food within six months," Dany said, glancing at Barristan. "If we're going to aid the people of the Riverlands, where should I deliver it?"
The elder of Oldtown had donated three million gold dragons for grain. Dany certainly couldn't eat all of it herself, nor did she lack supplies. It would be better used to help the people.
"To help the people?" The white knight was startled, then overjoyed. He said excitedly, "Geographically speaking, Nüquan City is the most suitable."
Hearing Dany's plan to aid the Riverlands, Archmaester Perestan looked conflicted and reminded her, "Earl Mooton is timid and cowardly. He wouldn't dare accept your food. Go to Crab Isle, or take Stormstone Keep—it's a ruin now."
"What are you talking about?" Brother Meribald asked in confusion.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Doggie suddenly barked wildly.
The next moment, they heard hooves trampling through mud in the courtyard.
"Someone's coming," Brienne said, alarmed.
"They're friends," Gendry said casually. Willow put down her wooden bowl and spoon, her face lighting up as she went to greet them.
"Boom!" A bolt of lightning split the dark sky. For a moment, the courtyard lit up like day.
Then came Willow's shrill, terrified voice:"Ahh! No! It's not Captain Lemon and the others!"
(End of chapter)
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