Chapter 12: The Bastard Sword
"But this is a Lannister sword." Ian gently stroked the golden lion head pommel, a perfect display of craftsmanship, and his lips twitched.
"A sword of the Black Brothers," Eton interrupted Ian, saying sternly. "For the Night's Watch, surnames are meaningless."
"You mean this sword originally belonged to a member of the Night's Watch?"
"Exactly."
"Then what is the relationship between this member of the Night's Watch and this Dovel?"
"You don't need to know that." The old blacksmith shook his head. "If you accept this task, I can pay you a commission of three gold dragons, and Dovel will also look after you once you join the Night's Watch. I should mention that he's a veteran ranger."
Holy shit! A commission of three gold dragons? Are you loaded? Ian glanced around reflexively, the thought of robbing the smithy flashing through his mind.
But the next second, he dismissed the insane idea.
This was the central square of Harrenhal! Even a fallen great house still had teeth. Even if House Whent had declined, a mere hedge knight like him couldn't take them on.
"Alright," Ian said seriously, sheathing the castle-forged sword and hanging it at his waist. "Deal. I promise to deliver it. I swear on my honor."
Ian's response brought a smile to the old blacksmith's face. He then gave Ian six gold dragons and 120 silver stags—three of which were commission for the sword delivery mission, and the rest from Ian's equipment sales.
Ian put the coins into his purse, walked out of the smithy, and retrieved his horse.
Thinking back on this quest, Ian couldn't help but smile wryly.
Even if he hadn't planned to visit Saltpans to hunt merchant players, he wouldn't have accepted such a sketchy quest!
A blacksmith from Harrenhal, for no apparent reason, asked someone heading to the Night's Watch to deliver a Lannister castle-forged sword? And claimed the sword had once belonged to a member of the Night's Watch?
There were simply too many unanswered questions, including the relationship between the sword's original owner and Dovel, their connection to the Lannisters, and how—given that both the sword's owner and Dovel were members of the Night's Watch—the sword had somehow ended up in the hands of a blacksmith at Harrenhal.
If Ian were sitting at his computer back home, as a hardcore fan of the series, he'd probably be obsessed with uncovering all the secrets.
But right now, he valued his life.
Secrets often carried danger, especially when it came to the Lannisters. He worried that he might, without realizing it, stumble into dangerous family business.
Shaking his head, Ian returned his attention to the castle-forged sword he'd just conned his way into keeping.
This was a truly remarkable find!
Beyond everything else, this Lannister sword was clearly of considerable value. Based on Ian's assessment, it must have cost over ten gold dragons to make, and if sold, it would fetch at least double that.
The only question was how to sell the sword? Ian fell into thought again.
Undoubtedly, apart from the sword's excellent craftsmanship, the most valuable part was the golden lion head pommel, carved so masterfully it could be called a work of art.
However, this was the sigil of House Lannister, the richest and most powerful family in all of Westeros. In an era when heraldry basically represented status, it was almost unheard of for any noble to forge another family's sigil.
Naturally, no one would be crazy enough to buy a sword bearing the Lannister sigil.
In other words, although the sword was valuable, it was also nearly impossible to sell.
"Perhaps that's why the old blacksmith dared to hand the sword to me so readily?" Ian couldn't help but think.
He'd wondered why the old blacksmith had so easily believed him.
His conclusion was that the old blacksmith had bought into his story about joining the Night's Watch.
After all, from the old blacksmith's perspective, an honorable hedge knight wouldn't sell his armor, nor would he be so dishonorable as to defraud a simple blacksmith. Therefore, he was almost certain that Ian was telling the truth.
And why would he worry about an "upright, dutiful knight" who had "sworn on his honor," "voluntarily taken the black," and "left all his money to his parents before departing?"
Now it seemed the old blacksmith had given him the sword because he was certain Ian couldn't sell it anyway.
"Is the only option to melt down the lion head? No, if it's solid gold, that's fine, but if it's gold-plated, wouldn't melting it down be wasteful?" Ian dismissed another possibility.
"Wait, hold on—why the hell do I need to sell the sword?" Ian suddenly slapped his forehead. "Isn't my most important goal right now to change my starting appearance and disguise myself as someone who absolutely can't be a player?"
What could be more un-player-like than a Lannister knight?
This gilded castle-forged sword was clearly the work of a master smith. Even within House Lannister, only those of a certain status could wield such a blade.
This meant he now had the key tool to impersonate a Lannister.
All he needed now was fine clothing and a better horse, and he'd be perfectly cast as a Lannister knight.
But what about his plan to pose as a caravan guard?
"No, no, no, that still has flaws," Ian shook his head. "I'm not dealing with natives, but with players. If I rashly disguise myself as a Lannister and get asked about my parentage, it would be a real pain to cover up."
While the other party might not ask, what if they did? Angrily refusing to answer? Wouldn't that just increase suspicion?
So, was there any way to avoid this issue?
Glancing at the castle-forged sword in his hand once more, Ian smiled. He had an idea.
It was a longsword—or more specifically, a hand-and-a-half sword.
Hand-and-a-half swords are one of the most common sword types in Western media. They combine the "thrusting" ability of a knight's sword, the "slashing" power of a greatsword, and the "versatility" of a broadsword—hence why they're also called "bastard swords."
So why not pretend to be a bastard?
After all, who would be more secretive about their origins than a bastard?
Usually, if you introduce yourself as Jon Snow or any Rivers, no one will question your background.
Unless they want their sword to do the talking for them—"bastard" is a grave insult in the Common Tongue of Westeros. Asking a bastard about his origins is like calling his mother a whore to his face.
This way, he could perfectly avoid the possibility of other players trying to figure out his identity.
Moreover, there was no bastard option in the player's parentage selection. According to the logical assumption that players would use their own background stories to disguise their identities, it would be difficult for players to associate a bastard with being a player.
"Ian Hill, bastard of some great figure in House Lannister. Because it concerns my father's reputation, I cannot reveal his name." Thinking of this, Ian turned and walked toward a tailor shop nearby.
Note: The bastards of nobles in Westeros use surnames based on their region of birth. The corresponding relationships are: Flowers - the Reach, Hill - the Westerlands, Pyke - the Iron Islands, Rivers - the Riverlands, Sand - Dorne, Snow - the North, Stone - the Vale, Storm - the Stormlands, Waters - the Crownlands.
(End of Chapter)
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