Myrcella's heart skipped a beat.
She stared at the red-haired woman standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame.
Sunlight streamed in from behind the woman, outlining her fiery red hair in a halo of crimson.
The expression on that usually wild face was one of seriousness Myrcella had never seen before.
"Shoot... my butt... with an arrow?"
Myrcella repeated subconsciously, her emerald eyes filled with absurdity and confusion.
This was too barbaric.
In King's Landing, the most vicious threat among noble ladies was merely spreading rumors about each other at tea parties.
Or stealing the knight the other fancied at a ball.
And then at night...
Shooting butts with arrows?
Seven Gods above.
This was something only a drunkard in a country tavern would say.
But for some reason, looking at Ygritte's face feigning ferocity, the fear in Myrcella's heart dissipated considerably.
She even found it a little... funny.
"If you learn well, I can teach you how to shoot arrows," Ygritte added stiffly, seeing her threat didn't seem to work.
"Then, you can shoot the butts of those Southern women you don't like."
Myrcella was utterly dumbfounded.
Her... brain seemed a little abnormal.
---
Above the Narrow Sea, at the peak of the clouds.
The biting wind was separated by an invisible barrier; Lynn didn't feel even a trace of chill.
He sat on the broad nape of Winter's neck, overlooking the boundless azure sea below.
The continent of Westeros had become a distant horizon.
The three heads of the giant dragon had their own tasks.
The largest head in the middle stared vigilantly ahead, golden vertical pupils scanning everything on the sea surface.
The head on the left was somewhat drowsy, yawning occasionally and spewing a small jet of hot dragon breath, burning a big hole in a passing cloud.
The head on the right was the most lively.
It twisted its long neck, rubbing its huge nose against Lynn's arm, making whimpering sounds in its throat like it was begging for food.
Lynn nodded helplessly, then silently tightened his grip on Winter.
Winter dove headfirst into the sea.
Moments later, it resurfaced clutching a large fish.
Of course, Lynn's clothes were soaked again.
Leaving the Wall, Lynn felt the heavy burden on his shoulders lighten considerably.
Lord Commander, King-Beyond-the-Wall...
These titles brought power, but also shackles.
A hundred thousand mouths waiting to be fed, a riddled North, and the Night King and Greenseer hiding in the Lands of Always Winter, plotting unknown schemes.
He had temporarily handed these matters over to Jon and Mance.
He needed stronger power, more resources.
And all of this lay in that vaster continent.
Essos.
Pentos, one of the Free Cities.
A city built of red brick and tile.
The magisters there were dripping with wealth, and the merchants controlled the trade routes to the East.
More importantly, there was a magister named Illyrio Mopatis.
A fat man who liked to invest in down-and-out nobles.
Lynn's goal was clear: he needed Illyrio's wealth and connections.
As for the Targaryen orphans Illyrio kept in his home...
---
Ygritte was about to die of annoyance.
Before Lynn left, he tossed her a heavy leather pouch filled with glittering gold dragon coins.
But having grown up this big, it was her first time seeing so much money.
Beyond the Wall, they only used the most primitive barter system.
A sheep for two bags of salt.
A fine bearskin for a passably sharp iron axe.
Money?
What was that?
Could you eat it?
Clutching the coin pouch, she stormed into Jon Snow's quarters like a whirlwind.
At that moment, Jon was getting a headache over the mountainous pile of food ledgers.
"Snow boy!"
Ygritte slammed the coin pouch heavily onto the table, the gold coins clinking crisply.
"I need a teacher!"
Jon looked up, staring at her blankly.
"A teacher? For whom?"
"That blonde girl! And..."
Ygritte's voice dropped, her cheeks burning slightly.
"And me."
Jon froze.
Looking at Ygritte's awkward demeanor, he suddenly understood something.
He sighed, pulling a sheet of parchment and ink from a nearby shelf.
"What kind of teacher are you looking for?"
"The best! The smartest! Knows everything! I don't like people who know nothing!"
Ygritte said unceremoniously.
With Jon's help, a oddly worded letter was sent via raven to White Harbor.
The content of the letter was simple.
"From Castle Black. Need a teacher to instruct a noble lady. Must be most learned. Pay is generous."
House Manderly, receiving the letter, was completely baffled.
Castle Black?
Needs a damn etiquette teacher?
But the words "pay is generous" mentioned in the letter, and the personal seal at the end proving Lord Commander Lynn's authorization, still made them send a candidate.
Ten days later.
A septa named Elena, accompanied by two servants, arrived at Castle Black, travel-worn.
When this septa, who had studied etiquette and history in the Hightower of Oldtown, stepped into the courtyard of Castle Black, she almost fainted on the spot.
The air was filled with a strange smell of sweat, livestock, and cheap ale.
Wildlings in dirty furs, giants carrying bone axes, and those Night's Watchmen with unfriendly eyes...
Seven Gods, this was simply the Seven Hells!
When she was brought before Ygritte and told that this red-haired woman who looked barbaric was her employer, Septa Elena felt her faith crumbling.
The first lesson took place in a relatively clean room in the Lord Commander's Tower.
Suppressing her discomfort, Septa Elena began to explain Westerosi heraldry to Princess Myrcella.
Ygritte sat in the corner, whittling an arrow shaft with a small knife while listening intently.
"...The roaring lion of House Lannister symbolizes wealth and power."
"The direwolf of House Stark represents the honor and resilience of the North..."
Septa Elena's voice was dry.
"Tch," Ygritte curled her lip disdainfully.
"What's the use of drawing a lion or a wolf? In a fight, you still rely on the weapon in your hand."
"I could shoot both a lion and a wolf dead! Two arrows at most!"
Septa Elena's lecture was interrupted.
She turned her head, looking at Ygritte with eyes reserved for barbarians.
"This... lady."
"Heraldry is the symbol of family honor, the nobility flowing in the blood..."
"Can you eat nobility?" Ygritte retorted.
"We Free Folk tattoo ourselves with the prey we've killed."
"That's called honor!"
Septa Elena's lips trembled with anger, but she couldn't say a word.
Myrcella sat nearby, suppressing her laughter, her shoulders shaking.
She found that since this wildling woman arrived, those dull lessons seemed much more interesting.
"Stop talking about this useless stuff!"
Ygritte threw away the arrow shaft in her hand and stood up.
"Teach her something useful!"
"Like how to find your way in the snow, how to distinguish poisonous ice mushrooms, how to set a trap with a single rope!"
Septa Elena's face turned pale.
She had never thought in her life that she would one day need to teach a princess these... wilderness survival skills??!
That night, the lesson ended on a sour note.
Myrcella returned to her room, but unexpectedly saw Ygritte standing in front of the full-length mirror.
She was clumsily imitating Septa Elena, trying to straighten her back, tuck her chin, and strike a pose she thought was very noble.
But the movement looked incredibly stiff and comical on her.
"Your shoulders are too tense."
Myrcella's voice was soft.
Ygritte jumped.
Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she instantly reverted to her claws-out demeanor.
"None of your business!"
Myrcella wasn't afraid. She walked up to Ygritte and said softly.
"He... Ser Lynn, he likes Southern ladies, doesn't he?"
Ygritte's body went rigid.
She didn't answer. In those grey eyes that always burned with fire, a trace of confusion and fragility appeared for the first time.
Myrcella suddenly understood.
This barbaric, rude woman who knew nothing was just trying, in her own way, to get closer to that man.
Even if that way looked so clumsy and laughable.
---
Pentos.
When Winter landed on a desolate beach outside the city, Lynn smelled air distinctly different from Westeros.
In that air, there was the spiciness of spices and the saltiness of the sea.
He changed into a luxurious silk robe, seemingly transforming into an Eastern merchant traveling here.
The streets of Pentos were even more crowded and noisy than King's Landing.
Dark-skinned Dothraki, Lysene nobles carried in litters by slaves, and Shadowbinders from the Shadow Lands of Asshai...
All sorts of people gathered here.
Lynn walked through the crowd, heading straight for the grandest mansion in the city, the Magister's manse with square brick towers.
The manse of Illyrio Mopatis.
He didn't even announce himself.
Because he knew the master of this mansion would definitely be impatient to see him.
Just as he was about to reach the gate cast of bronze and black iron, the gate suddenly opened from the inside.