Artys Arryn P.O.V
aron lunged forward through the opening before my knights could fully close the distance. I felt his hand pulling my hair, and then cold steel pressed against my throat.
"Drop your weapons!" he shouted, voice shaking but loud enough to freeze everyone in place. "Or I'll slit his bloody throat!"
He held me tight, knowing that with me in his grasp, no one would dare move against him. The dagger was pressed so close I could feel its sharp edge digging into my skin.
Around me, the guards froze. I saw Ser Jasper's angry face and Ser Lyn's jaw clench. One wrong move and things would get bloody fast—not just for the smugglers, but for me as well.
"HAAA! Drop your weapons or I'll take the life of your little lord!"
Garon was far too arrogant to notice what I was doing with my hands. His hand pulled my hair again, forcing me to look up at the sky. The dagger touched my neck; I could feel the sharpness of the blade, but I kept my cool.
It was a good thing I always kept a small dagger tucked near my waist. Slowly, carefully, I reached for it.
Before he could react, my hand was already at my hip. In one swift motion, I drew the dagger and drove it hard into Garon's thigh.
His scream tore through the dock—sharp and desperate. His grip loosened, and with that, I broke free and sprinted toward the smugglers' ship. Bryce and Noll followed me.
My knights and Royce's men clashed with the smugglers. The sound of steel rang through the air, loud and violent.
The smugglers, caught off guard, scrambled for weapons, pulling knives and blades from hidden places. The air was chaos: shouts, steel striking steel, the desperate rhythm of a fight breaking loose.
People nearby ran for cover. The Goldcloaks would be here any minute. With all this chaos, I had little time to find the sword.
If they came before I found the sword, they could take it. But if I claimed it first, by the tradition of right of conquest, it would be mine.
I had noticed none of the smugglers carried a Valyrian blade. That meant it was still on the ship.
Amidst the chaos, Ser Jasper and Lord Yohn Royce had cornered Garon. I looked at the two boys, then back at the ship.
"You two, come with me and show me where these fools keep their things. Is there anyone else on the ship?"
I didn't want to fight anyone. I was still a kid, and even though I was better at fighting than my peers, in hand-to-hand combat I didn't stand a chance against grown men. But if it were archery, that would've been a different story.
"M'lord, that's all of their crew. There should be no one on board now."
Bryce held his brother's hand. Both of them were shaking out of fear. The chaos and blood had clearly terrified them, especially the younger one. In my past life, I hadn't killed anyone personally, but I had ordered killings. Yes.
"Both of you, follow me and show me where these shits keep their stuff."
The brothers and I boarded the ship.
Five minutes later
Bryce took me to the room in the ship where the smugglers kept their stuff. Inside were stashes of cooking supplies, wine barrels, and boxes—probably stolen goods from plundered merchants. Then I saw it: a long wooden box, plain but sealed tight.
I opened it. The sword was there, thank God.
I mean, wow. This fucking sword is the most beautiful weapon I've ever seen. Wings were carved into its hilt, like an angel's weapon, and the ripple-wave pattern on the steel marked it as Valyrian steel.
The blade was thin, light, made for swift hands—perfect for someone who favors speed over brute strength. My men should've dealt with the smugglers by now. It was time to take a look.
"You two little shits, what are you doing here? And who is this person with you?"
What the fuck? I heard a drunken voice. When I turned, a man with messy hair stood there—and the most important thing, he was Black. In this life, I had never met someone with black skin color.
"Who the fuck is this nigg… never mind, who the hell is he?" I looked at the two brothers with a mix of confusion and anger. Besides, I don't think I should use that word, even though I'm in another world.
"That's the captain of the ship," Noll said in a low voice, trembling with fear. Seems like they'd made life hell for the boys. The real problem now was how to deal with this man. Worse, there were no knights nearby. How the fuck was I supposed to handle him?
"You! Lord Artys is a nobleman! You should be on your knees, begging for mercy! He will protect us and bring you to justice!" Noll screamed at the top of his lungs, mustering all the courage he had.
Bloody hell. I looked at the boy. Honestly, I wanted to kill him first. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this man? I'm not Superman; besides, my body is that of an eight-year-old kid, and right now I don't have any guards with me.
I might be better than my peers, but against grown men? In a one-on-one fight, I didn't stand a chance. These two boys were useless, and I had no helpers. Then it struck me: attack is the best form of defense.
I rushed forward, shoving Noll straight into the captain.
"AHHHH!" Noll screamed as he slammed into the man. The captain staggered, stumbled, and fell. Too drunk to keep his balance. So that's it? I'd been worrying too much—he's a drunk fool.
I tightened my grip on the sword. "Well, consider yourself lucky. You're the first to die by my hand."
In my past life, I had ordered deaths but never delivered them myself. That ends today.
The man, still lying on the ground after the fall, looked at me with dizzy eyes.
"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen… silver hair, your beautiful eyes are like the ocean… come to daddy. I would love to cum while looking at your eyes, girl. Ohhh… That feeling would be amazing. Come to me; I would make you my queen."
What? My stomach turned. This filthy pedophile. He thinks I am a girl and wants to do that shit while looking at my eyes. Monsters like him don't deserve to breathe.
I looked at my new sword and then at the filth that would soon become a corpse. I raised my sword and shoved it straight into his stomach.
"You little whore," he coughed.
"For fuck's sake, I'm a boy." I had enough of this dickhead. I pulled the sword out of his stomach, ripped the blade free, and slashed this fucker's throat. His blood sprayed across the walls and floor until his body went limp.
I turned to Bryce and his stupid brother, who was on the floor next to the dead body, eyes closed.
"The smugglers should be dealt with by now. Follow me and tell your dumbass brother to stop acting like he is dead."
"I am not acting dead; I was just lying down and waiting."
"Waiting for what?" He was trying to act brave.
"I was looking for the right time to attack him and help you deal with him." Noll got up and went to his brother's side.
"I used to train with my father to fight… and you won't believe me, I used to match him and sometimes I could even defeat him and…"
"Enough."
They flinched at my voice. I needed them. Witnesses for Robert. When the queen hears about this sword, she'll try everything to get this sword for her bastard.
"But my lord… what about the smugglers?" the younger whispered.
"Didn't you hear me? My men should've handled them."
We left the cabin. Outside, the battle was over. The dock stank of seawater, smoke, and blood. Almost all the smugglers lay dead except one. The Goldcloaks were cleaning up, gathering weapons, piling corpses. Two smugglers had been captured, one missing an arm.
"You two, stay close," I ordered the brothers. "You'll follow me to the castle."
They would be my witnesses. I am expecting a trial for the sword after all; Valyrian steel is a treasure, and even that drunk boar might get interested in it.
Boots thudding on damp planks, I stepped off the ramp. Lord Yohn Royce approached with his men.
"Are you well, my lord? I was worried about your safety. It's not wise to enter a smugglers' ship," he asked while his eyes scanned me from head to toe.
I smirked, raising the sword. "More than well. I've found something precious. I don't know where the smugglers got it, but it's mine now."
Yohn's eyes widened as he looked at the sword. He knew instantly that the sword in my hand was made of Valyrian steel. His family owned one too, Lamentation.
"My lord… where did you get this?" His voice was tight, shocked.
"From the smugglers' ship. Only they know the truth about its origin."
The crowd had formed a semicircle around the area. All the smugglers were dead except one, who was chained by the Goldcloaks.
"Lord Royce," a voice called, "we must question them about the sword's origin!"
Yohn strode toward the bound smugglers. I followed, sword heavy in my hands. One of the Goldcloaks stepped in our way.
"No one speaks to them. They're now prisoners of the crown," he declared, trying to use the king's authority to stop us. I think he is a new recruit or Lannister man; those shits have started infiltrating King's Landing because the borrowing has started.
That fat boar is spending like he's got an infinite money glitch, and I recently heard my father and he were fighting over it. The borrowing has just started, still not at disaster level, but Robert doesn't listen to his Hand's advice.
P.O.V ends.