Artys Arryn POV
It's my first time seeing this place personally, but I had the memories of this body. I used to come here a lot. Seems like I liked to fish, swim, and sail.
My father, on my seventh nameday, gave me a cog as a gift.
We finally reached the Blackwater Rush. There were Royal Navy ships flying the Baratheon banner. Next to them, another cog with the falcon flag.
It hadn't been much time since the Greyjoy Rebellion, but by the time of the War of the Five Kings, the royal navy had deteriorated due to lack of proper maintenance.
Thanks to Robert's reckless spending and Littlefinger's tricks to make the crown almost go bankrupt.
"Lord Royce, why don't we have a fishing contest?" I asked casually.
But then I noticed a group of a dozen people carrying heavy bags coming out of a merchant galley. There was a white heron on the bow of that ship.
So here it begins.
Oh my... so this is how it feels to have so much knowledge. If I remember correctly, I shouldn't know the name of the white bird, but because of my first wish, I do.
Knowing everything feels great. Shame my knowledge has limits. Think of my mind like a huge library but with a few missing shelves. Science? Yeah, I've got plenty not cutting-edge, but enough. Military tactics, though, from Roman to Napoleonic formations... but I can't make muskets, so what the fuck would I do with Napoleonic tactics?
I don't get it. That god, angel, whatever he was did he even think this through, or is he just messing with me? I mean, I know how Napoleon used the muskets in his war formations, but without muskets, what would I do with that knowledge?
Still, I could build legions. Roman legions. I'd do it in Essos, stay hidden, use proxies or whatever.
Just imagine it: four or maybe five legions marching, shouting Roma Invicta. That'd be a sight.
Yeah… that's enough daydreaming. There's still time for War of the Five Kings to start.
Let's focus on the current matters. I looked at the ship.
This is the ship the celestial was talking about. I just need a way in. The sword should be here.
"Ser Lyn, those guys look suspicious," I said, pointing my index finger at the smugglers. I had around twenty knights with me, and Lord Royce had brought around nine with him from his lands. The smugglers were most probably in the range of eight to ten.
We outnumbered them three to one.
"There seems to be no problem. What about you, Andar?" Ser Lyn Corbray said after looking at the group.
"Me too. Seems fine to me as well," Ser Andar Royce commented.
"Why don't we take a look first? No loss in checking," I said. I just need them to look that's all I need.
"But my lord, it's the job of the City Watch, not ours." Ser Jasper interjected.
Jasper. He is a knight of humble origin, no noble blood, but a damn good swordsman probably the best in Jon Arryn's guard unit and the one he trusts the most. Loyal to House Arryn through and through.
"He's right. That would be against the king's law. It's the work of the Goldcloaks. I'll have one of my men inform them," Yohn Royce added.
For God's sake, can we just take a look? And then I saw the two boys, a few years older than me, carrying the bags. They didn't look like crew, and they were doing most of the work despite their age, while the others either chatted or did the least demanding work.
They looked like they were forced into this. Judging from their appearance, they don't look to be in good condition. These boys must have been forced to work, and most likely… slaves.
That celestial bastard probably knew this would happen. Slavery's banned in Westeros, so I can play the noble upholding the king's laws.
"Lord Royce, look at those two boys their clothes are torn and ragged, and they're doing the hardest labor. I think they're slaves," I said.
"The condition of smallfolk is poor, and slaves from the other side of the Narrow Sea live in even worse conditions than smallfolk. Those two boys are just poor besides, slavery is outlawed here. No fool would bring them unless they're nobles from Essos, and these don't look noble. I think they are not slaves," Yohn explained, dismissing my claim.
"Lord Royce, there's no loss in taking a look."
"Fine. Let's have a look," Yohn gave up on the argument, as he could see I wouldn't listen to him.
Let's go. My Valyrian steel sword, Daddy is coming for you.
As we got closer, the smugglers noticed us. They went stiff. Nervous. My knights and Royce's men clearly intimidated them.
And me? My clothes screamed nobility.
"What can I do for you?" one of them came forward, probably the leader of the group.
"You stand before young Lord Artys Arryn, son of Lord Jon Arryn of House Arryn, Hand of the King. Show proper respect," Ser Jasper said sharply, loud enough to draw attention.
"No need for that, Ser Jasper. They lack the etiquette to address nobles, and besides, we're not here to teach them manners. Formality isn't needed."
Jasper was trained by House Arryn from childhood and has served my house since he learned to wield the sword. He was even knighted by Jon Arryn. His loyalty to House Arryn will no doubt prove useful in the future for my plans regarding the Vale.
"M'lord, we didn't intend to offend you. What can I do for you? I, Garon, will try my best to meet your expectations."
His smile was desperate. Eyes full of fear. Good. That's what I want fear in the eyes of my enemies.
So there is something fishy here. My hunch about slaves might be right.
And he knows slavery is punishable by death in Westeros unless you're in the Iron Islands. They don't give a damn about it since they practice their thrall system, similar to slavery but less formal. They don't trade thralls often, but they definitely won't judge smugglers who bring slaves.
In the rest of Westeros? It's a death sentence.
"So, your name is Garon. Very well. I have no quarrel with you. I wish to speak with those two boys."
Your name is of no use to me. I want answers. If they whisper the word "slave," you're done.
And when it's over, I'll take what I came for the Valyrian steel you're hiding.
"Both of you, are you part of their crew or something else? Fear not. I, Artys Arryn, will protect you. You may speak freely."
Just say it. Just say 'slaves.' That's all; my men will take care of the rest.
I'll inform Father at the Small Council about the sword before the news reaches that brother-fucking bitch. She would try everything to get the sword for her son.
Garon was sweating. If the boys spoke the truth, he was dead, and he knew it.
"M'lord, these two are part of my crew. You've misunderstood."
"Shut up. Let the boys speak," Ser Jasper snapped. He is hot-tempered.
I looked at the boys. Just say it.
"Tell me the truth. Were you captured or enslaved by them? Speak freely. If it's true, I'll make sure you're freed. Don't worry these knights are here for your safety. Speak without fear."
I looked directly at the two boys. Garon and his men went pale, their gazes fixed nervously on the boys, silently praying they wouldn't tell the truth.
"M'lord… my name is Bryce. That's my younger brother, Noll." He placed a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder.
"We used to live on Dragonstone, my lord. But one day these men came… they killed our parents and captured us." His voice trembled. Tears streamed down his face.
Finally. That's all I need. Blood will spill today.
They really had the guts to steal children from Dragonstone and sail into King's Landing like it was nothing.
The smugglers' faces turned ashen. They knew. There was no walking away from this now.
"I heard them talking," Bryce continued, voice shaking. "They said they looted a merchant ship. Took whatever seemed valuable and came here for supplies before heading to Pentos. And… and when they reach Essos, they were going to sell us to a slaver's."
That was it.
My knights and Royce's men drew steel in perfect unison, surrounding the smugglers.
I looked back at Ser Lyn and Ser Jasper, who were three or four steps away from me, and they moved closer to guard me as the chaos was about to start.
Garon wasn't done yet. He had something planned. But it doesn't matter. He's outnumbered.
Artys Arryn POV ends.
~~~Heaven~~~
A group of angels lounged lazily on couches, some sipping wine from golden cups, others chewing on cakes, all watching Artys on a massive floating screen.
"This one is arrogant. Look at him he's bursting with overconfidence," one angel muttered.
"Every time we send someone to another world, bless them with gifts, and give them a chance to shine… they all turn arrogant," Celestial, the being who sent Artys to the Game of Thrones world, said with an annoyed sigh.
"Yeah, not to mention the lecture from Father and then the punishment, He hates when we mess with mortals." another angel commented.
"But it's worth it. I mean, it's one of the few sources of entertainment we've got," Gabriel said, shrugging.
"Jesus, could you make more wine? It's finished," another angel called out.
Jesus snapped his fingers, annoyed. The fountain nearby, which was full of water, shifted into a steady stream of dark red wine.
"This is not a good habit. You shouldn't be drinking wine all the time," Jesus said, frowning. "Father won't be happy."
"He's never happy," one angel groaned. "Every time we do something, he says, 'You did this wrong, that wrong… it's like nothing makes him happy.'"
"That's not exactly saintly behavior, brothers," a cold voice said.
Everyone turned.
A figure in a black suit stood there, red eyes glowing faintly. The Lord of Hell himself, King of Demons, Lucifer Morningstar.
Before anyone could react, thunder cracked the clouds. Wings of flame unfurled, and Michael, the Archangel of War, descended like judgment, sword blazing.
"LUCIFER!" Michael's voice tore through the heavens.
"Well, well… hello, brother. Been a while," Lucifer said, playful as ever.
"I don't have time for your games. Go back to Hell, or else."
Michael's voice was cold the kind of cold you hear when a pretty girl rejects an ugly guy without blinking.
Come on everyone was once rejected I am talking to you. The one reading this.
"Or else what, demon? Have the fires of Hell fogged your memory? Have you forgotten how I put your worthless rebellion to end in our Father's name?" Michael raised his sword and pointed it at him. The sword was shining brightly.
"Watch your tongue." Lucifer's suit shifted into red-and-black armor. His watch dissolved into a blade glowing with crimson light, and dark, batlike wings unfurled behind him.
"CEASE THIS MADNESS AT ONCE!" Heaven roared. Cracks split through the air like reality itself was tearing.
"Lucifer and Michael, come to the Throne Room." The voice grew sharper. "Jesus… I placed you in charge of keeping these children under control, making sure they don't interfere with the mortal world. And here you are… drinking and laughing with them."
"But Father, I did warn them," Jesus tried to protest.
"Liar," the Heavens boomed.
"You will all go to Hell and assist the Keepers. Gabriel, come to the Throne Room with your elder brothers. I will deliver your punishment myself."
"Looks like Gabe's about to get crucified by Dad," one angel joked, earning a burst of laughter before all of them vanished into thin air, sent to Hell to begin their punishment.