[New Main Quest - Mine! Mine! Only Mine!
Description - Man didn't make it, but man did discover. For ages, wars have been fought, and kingdoms have risen and fallen. Nothing raises greed as gold does. But the Tyrant does not share.
Goal - Claim all the gold in the river.
Reward - Goldsmithing & North's Resource Map]
Wylis crawled inside his tent for the night, most of his legs still stretching out as the tent was just too small. He didn't sleep, just stared up at the blue screen with quest information. The reward of Goldsmithing was fine, but North's Resource Map was the absolute treasure.
He checked through the shop and found Goldsmithing at the price of 1 year of his lifespan. It could be bought. However, North's Resource Map was nowhere in the shop, meaning the reward was exclusive to the quest, and failing it…
Well, he didn't even think about failing. Last time he failed a Side Quest and lost the ability to use his Earthbending and Tyrant's Squire for a while. With the main quest, he wondered if he'd lost it all for months.
Huh? Claim all the gold in the river? But this is just a small tributary of the Broken Branch. So which river?
It was a question that troubled him a lot. If the goal was just to take gold from the tributary, he could do it. He had a near-complete majority of the river in his lands. But if the goal was the entire Broken Branch, then House Hornwood would get involved and…
Secretly stealing it all is impossible.
Even if he was at the absolute peak of his Earthbending, he couldn't imagine it. Doing it alone was possible, but doing it secretly wasn't. Someone, somewhere, would notice. A fisherman or a logger.
Besides, doing it secretly posed a different challenge. If found out later, it would lead to disgrace, and in the cold North, where most nobles sang about honor regardless of having it or not, that wasn't good.
"Nehehehigh!"
Wylis lazily raised his head and saw Caliburn sleeping like a dog, lying sideways. Maybe it was a dream, the big horse was kicking and braying.
Probably dreaming of breeding mares.
With a sigh, he finally closed his eyes.
####
The next morning, Wylis woke up, set up the fire, and cooked another hearty meal for himself and the boy. But seeing Viserys still not waking up, he grabbed a rock and threw it at him.
"Ah! What? Where—"
"Up with you, boy. Must be a fine thing, being young and rolling over with never a thought darker than the next meal."
"I was just… tired. I'm—"
"A little princess, I know. On your feet now, and rinse that drool off in the river. Caliburn here made the run to Ramsgate and returned while you dreamed of feather beds."
Viserys stared at the big horse. The big horse brayed and bobbed his big head.
"Does he understand us?"
Wylis looked at Caliburn with narrow eyes. "Couldn't say for certain, but aye, I do get that feeling sometimes. Boy's too clever."
Quickly after that, they ate their morning meal. Then Wylis removed the tents and folded them, tying them to the saddles. He broke the buckets and other tools left behind by the villagers. A part of him worried that he shouldn't have let them go. But another part of him refused to kill men just for his greed. Still, he knew he had to make his plans fast before word got out.
"What were those men doing here?" Viserys asked as they got on their horses.
"Fishing," Wylis replied. "Let's go, we're returning home. Chett will do the remaining survey."
Soon, both of them mounted their horses and started making their way south toward Rasmgate. They moved slowly as they passed through the forest; the trees made it impossible to see far. But Wylis had the help of his Tyrant's Fief map.
"My lord, how do I fight and win against a tall man like you?"
Wylis eyed the young boy. "Be quick on your feet, keep a spear in hand, and wear full armor. A helmet, too. The helmet matters. Oh, and stay humble. The gods love a braggart right up until they drop him in the dirt."
"..."
"That is… very specific."
"That is how you could best Gregor Clegane, son. The man stood taller than I do. Yet he didn't stand long before me. Remember this when you think of battle. Don't measure yourself against me. I am the exception. I'm faster than most despite my size, while most giants are slow."
Viserys nodded his head. "I unde—"
"Halt!" Wylis raised his hand suddenly. "Pull your sword."
Wylis did the same thing, unsheathing his massive blade. It was cold; his breath made mist as he unmounted Caliburn. He looked around. The ground was soft dirt, the trees were high around, and the sky was bright.
"Neigh!"
Wylis looked down where Caliburn pointed, and sure enough, there were footprints. But he didn't need to go around and investigate. He quickly looked into the Fief Map and…
"Stay on the horse, Ben," Wylis ordered, taking the false name louder, a hint for Viserys that someone was listening. "Come out. No use skulking behind those cursed trees. Who sent you? Roose?"
Crunch!
Twigs cracked under the feet as finally four figures emerged from behind the trees. They were in front of him, likely waiting there to ambush him. But Wylis was more taken aback by their attire. They didn't seem like men Roose would send to kill him.
Wildlings?
The grey and white fire, their unkempt hair and beard, their animal-hide boots tied with ropes. That wasn't the attire of a Northern man, or a sellsword. And their weapons looked unrefined, wooden spears with iron tips, bows on their back, and crude axes.
"Villagers?" Viserys asked.
"Those are the wildlings, Ben. They probably ran down south from around the wall," Wylis explained. "No talking sense into them. They hurl 'kneeler' at us like an insult and wear their filth and wandering like a bloody badge of honor. Give them stone and mortar, and they'd use it to scratch their arses before they built anything lasting. Better to freeze honest than bend a knee, they reckon."
"They're fools, aren't they, my lord?"
"Finest breed of fools, son. Keep your seat and stay mounted. Those twig arms of yours won't touch them, and their spears are long. I'll deal with them, maybe haul the breathing ones back for questioning. There could be more."
Scared of me already?
Wylis saw the look in their eyes. Desperate, afraid, and hopeless. They were likely starving as well. That only made them more dangerous because they had nothing to lose. They were going to fight him like wild animals, not men.
"Come then, you sorry lot. I'm the only thing between you and sweet freedom. Put me down, and the horses are yours to roast. What are you waiting for?" Wylis walked towards them without fear, his six-foot sword held in position.
"We don't want to kill you, kneeler!"
Wylis gave a short laugh. "How very noble of you. Shame of it is, as Lord of Ramsgate, it's my duty to kill you."
"We can end him, Varolf!"
"Aye, kill him!"
"All of us at once!"
Wylis didn't bother letting them plan and lunged forward. His feet moved faster than any of them expected. Despite his size, he was faster than most. The four men were standing a distance away from each other, so Wylis aimed for the right-most, the one who seemed like the leader.
"Varolf!"
The six-foot blade of steel swung in a simple swiping slash. The wildling tried jumping back to safety. But Wylis' blade was longer than most blades, and his arm reach was longer than any.
The blade connected and cut open the wildling's belly. But it wasn't so deep to kill him, or for the insides to spill out. Still, the blood was drawn.
"Gah! Kill him!" Varolf groaned, clutching his belly.
The other three wildlings jumped at Wylis.
Woosh!
Wylis crochets down and swings his blade at the feet of all three men.
They all jumped at the same time.
Wylis kept the motion of his sword going, jumped straight to his feet, and reversed the sword slash instead. As the three wildlings were already in the air, and he moved so fast, by the time the three landed on their feet, the giant's blade connected.
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
The wildlings wore no armor to begin with. Wylis's strength was absurd to begin with, and Tyrant's Squire made him stronger.
"Gaaaah!"
"Nooo!"
"Argh!
All three wildlings were split in half at their waists. Completely, cleanly sliced as the blade passed through their clothes and flesh. Their guts spilled everywhere, and blood made a big puddle.
Too easy.
The wildlings had no technique. They were also starved and weak. Wasting time on them was pointless, and he had no reason to be kind to them. The records he'd read and the villagers of his fief told him how wildlings would rape and murder whenever they were lucky to reach that far south.
At last, Wylis looked at the last remaining wildling, Varolf, still clutching his belly. The man was already down on his ass, gawking at the dead bodies of his friends.
"Uwahhhgh—ugh!"
Right then, a disgusting sound came from behind. Wylis looked back, and there was Viserys, vomiting from the back of his horse. Then he remembered this was likely Viserys' first time seeing such bloodshed.
"You're coming with us," Wylis declared and walked over to the last wildling.
The first thing he did was knock him out, then tied his arms and legs. Finally, he grabbed one of the tents he'd collected, wrapped it around the wildling thickly, and then tied it to his saddle with a rope. Wylis planned to drag the bastard all the way to Ramsgate.
At last, they resumed their journey. The leftover dead bodies would later be handled by men he planned to send to patrol the river.
"Done vomiting?" Wylis gave Viserys a firm look. "Get used to it."
"How can anyone get used to such barbari—"
"Worse has been done, boy. They meant to rape Myra before they cut her throat, put two dozen holes in Leia, and smash Jon's skull against the stone. Had I come a breath later, that would have been true history."
Viserys instantly shut his mouth, realising what was being said. Myra was Elia, Leia was Rhaenys, and Jon was Aegon. His own nephew and niece. His own blood.
"Your mother would have died birthing your sister if I hadn't come when I did. Best remember that before you start looking down your nose. The realm's a savage place underneath all the polished steel and pretty oaths. At least I still bother keeping my knightly vows. Most men only laugh at them and call it old wisdom."
Viserys' gulp was audible as the boy looked down. "I… forgiv—"
"Chin up, boy. You've years yet to fill your skull with sense. Learn everything worth learning. Grow into a man your ancestors would be proud of. Strong, just, wise, and reasonably honorable. Keep what's worth keeping from me and leave the rest."
"Like your endless harem?"
"..."
"Alright, that's a clout in the ear. Get here, boy!"
"Then I'll take your skilled riding! Ha!" Viserys instead yanked the reins of his horse and sped, laughing.
Wylis did the same, forgetting he had a wildling being pulled behind.
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