####
The next day,
Eddard Stark was gone. Robert was urgently crowned that morning, with the High Septon in attendance. There weren't many lords around, just Jon, Tywin, and a few Crownlands' nobles.
Of course, Wylis was also present. It was hard to find good clothes, but when the new King commanded, the maids ran around to patch him up with something good. Eventually, he donned a noble-looking black tunic, gold embroidered surcoat, matching breeches, fine leather belt and boots, and, as custom for a Northern noble, a fur coat, only his was black in color except for the fur, which was grey.
"Come here, Wylis!" Robert howled from his throne as soon as the crowning ceremony was over. By custom, Jon and Tywin should have been the first to kneel and take vows of fealty to the new King, as they belonged to Great Houses.
But it was Wylis, passing through the small crowd of men to reach the throne. At the same time, Robert had gotten up from his seat, grumbling nonsense as he stepped down.
"Seven hells, first the robes, then that blasted cape, and now this crown. I'm dressed up finer than a maiden off to her first bedding." Robert mumbled complaints that only Wylis could hear that close.
Wylis chuckled and stood face to face with the new King. "Crown suits you."
"Ha! I don't feel any different. Haven't started shitting gold yet, so I suppose being king isn't so grand after all." Robert grinned and glanced aside. "Lord Arryn, give me the grant."
Wylis knew what was coming and got down on one knee, ready for the moment he'd been waiting for so long. A lord, at last. A lesser lord, sure, but at last, with his own lands to rule over. With his own castle. With his own little villages and towns. He felt excited like a kid.
"I, Wylis Kaiser, by m…"
"Ah, enough kneeling, Wylis. You've drank with me, bled with me, bled for me, and Seven hells, kept me alive when I was down. That's worth more than half the realm. No more calling you knight. By my crown, I name you Lord of Ramsgate. Lands, seat, and folk are yours now. Keep your sword sharp and your hall ready, for I'll be there soon enough, raising hell at your feast."
As soon as Wylis stood up and took the rolled grant from Robert's hand, a blue screen flashed before his eyes.
Ting!
[Host's Status Changed!]
[Previous Status - Champion Knight (Legacy Duration - 120 Years)]
[Current Status - Lesser Lord (Legacy Duration - 200 Years)]
Ting!
[Life Quest Completed - From Knight To Lord
Description: You have shed blood, but more you have spilled. You have won battles, women, and now this title. This is the path of a Tyrant, do not falter, do not sit easy. This is only the beginning.
Reward: 4X multiplier to strength increase for making love with each noble, title partner.
Reward: New Legacy feature unlocked.]
New feature?!
"You are welcome any time, Your Grace." Wylis wasn't supposed to, but since Robert shifted, he gave him a brotherly hug back.
After that, he moved to the side and let the others take their oath. Robert didn't stop them, however. He made them take the entire oath.
Meanwhile, Wylis was busy looking at the new unlocked feature.
[Legacy(Unlocked) (Trueborn & Bastards) - A Tyrant is born not from name but fame. Spread the name and the seed, Trueborns or Bastards.
-> Trueborn - Each Trueborn adds 5 years to lifespan and unwavering loyalty.
-> Bastards - Each Bastard adds 1 year to lifespan and unwavering loyalty.
->Customizer - Customize your newborn. A Tyrant's seed must not stand weak.
Tyrant's Fief - A Tyrant's eye sees all. Every blade of grass, every breath taken. (Locked - No fief found.)]
Tyrant's fief? Wylis pondered over what it could be. It gave him even more reasons to rush and reach Ramsgate. But he wasn't done yet. Robert had promised further rewards, anything he desired.
"Wylis."
"Lord Arryn." Wylis stopped zoning out and focused on the new Lord Hand. "The brooch suits you."
"But it's a heavy burden," Jon said, and suddenly lowered his voice. "Visit my tower before sunset. I'll record your new coat of arms and… I have some matters to discuss."
What matters?
"I'll be sure to reach you, my Lord."
Wylis didn't dwell on that for long, however. A small feast was held that day, so he had enough folks around to speak with and form some new connections.
####
Knock! Knock!
"Lord Arryn? You were looking for me?" Wylis arrived at the Tower of the Hand.
"Come in."
When the old voice came, Wylis pushed the door and walked inside. The Hand's solar was filled with sunlight as it resided in a tower. The large windows let in plenty of sunlight. But it was empty right now as Jon Arryn was still settling in.
"Have a seat, Wylis."
Wylis took the chair by the main table. He watched the old man place some books on the shelves. In his sixties, Jon looked thin, but nowhere near kicking the bucket.
He's avoiding me?
Wylis noticed the strangeness in the way Jon Arryn carried himself. The man kept stacking books, glancing at him with side eyes. If their eyes were to meet, the man quickly looked away each time. That continued for a while before he finally turned and took the seat beside Wylis, not the main lord's chair.
"How do you find the weight of lordship? It sits heavy, yet I think you'll bear it better than most," Jon said and patted Wylis' shoulder. "When do you leave?"
"In three days," Wylis responded, sensing something was amiss. Jon usually smiled while speaking with him. But that day, there was a veiled look to him, eyes that looked exhausted, and lips that counted every word before speaking.
Jon Arryn nodded for some time, his gaze down, not on Wylis' face.
"Is something weighing on you, my Lord?" Wylis asked him plainly. "If there's something I can do to help, just say it."
"There is," Jon responded, his voice barely a breath above a whisper. "There is, Wylis… There certainly is."
Creak!
Jon stood up suddenly and walked over to the window. He gazed out while speaking, as if trying to hide his face and expressions. His shoulders looked particularly stiff.
What's going on? I don't remember something like this.
"Ned has produced an heir already. Our vows were spoken at the same time. Yet the Eyrie remains without an heir," Jon said, each word as if broken, uttered after a struggle. "There were efforts made. Maesters offered counsel. It is my years that weigh against me, Wylis."
While Wylis had already started to get some ideas, he chose not to speak. Even Jon stopped talking, his shoulders shaking.
This is out of nowhere. Wylis pondered over the matter. Jon… Can't ruin relations with the new Hand.
"What does Lady Lysa say?" He asked eventually.
"Aversion at first. But then came acceptance," Jon responded, his fist clenched. "Hoster spoke to me often enough. He wished Lysa had been yours, if fate had been kinder."
Fuck that! Like I'd take that insane woman!
"Wylis… the thought first came to me at the feast after the Trident. When that woman of yours came forward with your bastard… I've thought plenty." Jon's voice faltered, and for a while he said nothing. "Will you?"
Wylis had understood everything by then. He could see why Jon was being so indirect. It was a heavy wound on his mind, his manhood. It was a topic of shame and humiliation.
"What if, once this is done, you come to loathe me for it?"
Jon leaned forward over the window's edge, his head drooped low, shaking. "If anyone, I'll loathe myself, Wylis."
Cross-armed, Wylis pondered over his choice. He could do it. Lysa, while not as stunning as Catelyn, still had her charm, especially now since she was just nine and ten—Petite and slender. The main reason behind his hesitation was Jon's long-term reaction.
By putting himself in Jon's shoes, he tried to imagine things. And yes, he'd think of the man who fucked his wife every time he'd try to bed her. He might not even be able to love her. To begin with, Wylis would rather not have a child than force himself to go through that self-inflicted humiliation.
But the key difference was mentality. Wylis had the luxury to think like a modern man of his time. Where blood ties mattered less. What mattered was talent. In comparison, for Jon, having an heir was a must. Even if not of his own blood, it was necessary to fake it.
"If you're willing, nod. If you're unwilling, shake your head." Jon finally turned and stared into Wylis' eyes, shame dimming his gaze. "We never spoke. We never met today. Let no word of this pass our lips again… Let it die here… whatever your choice."
"Before I respond. Why me?"
"Because Ned wouldn't. His honor wouldn't allow it. You're not as rigid as he, and…" Jon turned away once more, and an audible gulp escaped his lips. "You're… admired by women."
Lysa, you mean?
______________________
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