GOT/ASOIAF: A Game Of Ice And Fire

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One thing I've learned in these few years living in this world was that any knowledge I had, regardless if it was from my previous life or from reading books here, wouldn't cover up everything about its people and places.

Acquaintance through personal experience was the only way of knowing them well.

This was beautifully illustrated by how much I've learned ever since stepping foot into this golden city.

As of now, the well-maintained city of Lannisport had a bustling population of around 300,000 divided in its four districts.

First being Seafield, the sprawling harbor district filled with brothels and bazaars. The further away from the shore, the worse it got until the Seawall. Many inns of ill repute and gangs preying on unwary travelers were periodically wiped out by the Lannister guardsmen there.

With Shambles being the worst part of Seafield, from the Seawall, north of the Harbour-proper lies a collection of filthy shacks and wineskins. Most nobles didn't come out of the Shambles without proper guard and armour.

An adequate substitute for Flea Bottom, where petty crime ran rampant, and the Stranger could finally make an appearance.

Around the harbour-proper, Seafield was less run down. Many trading houses and warehouses line the seafront. The road into the city was Field Street, which was policed by the City Watch at all hours to keep the filth from the Shambles and the other parts of Seafield from the merchants and craftsmen taking their wares to the markets.

Second was Lannistown, the center of Lannisport, where all the oldest buildings were, and the most impressive/expensive manses, including those belonging to the Lannisters of Lannisport, could be found.

This was also where all the goldmakers kept their shops. Renowned throughout the continent and even beyond for their work, they have an ancient guild and hold tremendous sway over city politics.

Third, Westfold, west of Lannistown, where the city sprawled further. The houses there were tall, and constrained by the city walls. It was a warren of stone houses, courtyards and squares. Many have taken pŀėȧsurė in passing through its maze.

Maester Creylen mentioned that "to walk in Westfold was to walk in ever new surroundings" as many have found quiet fountains or secluded rooftop gardens that they could never find again.

Redcastle, the site of the former hold of the Lannisters of Lannisport overlooking Seafield. Built to defend the seawall from Ironborn raiders, served as a strong but uncomfortable fort for many years, before being turned over to the City Watch during the reign of King Jaehaerys I.

Under the former holdfast were many of the city's judicial and governmental buildings, with the tax collectors and customs men using it for easy access to the harbour, for the Seawall was thinner here.

Sadly I didn't find any Magical Dungeons there.

And fourth being Goldview, below the small hill where the Goldsmiths worked clustered the houses and mills of the lesser guilds. Well ordered and policed, Goldview was renowned for its taverns and eateries.

There was a street full of brothels known colloquially as the 'Street of Gold,' for the hair of its inhabitants, almost all claiming some descent from some Lannet, Lanny or Lannister.

It was illegal to practice whoring in any other part of the city, when a very godly Lannister of Lannisport drove them from Lannistown. .

These days, the rule wasn't enforced, but some of the pillowhouses maintained gangs to break prostitution rings in Seafield.

As for the gates of the city, Sea Gate led to Seafield.

Red Gate, the main gate into the city, so named for its posts being made of a red veined marble.

Centaur's Gate, the north gate leading to Castamere, named for the sigil of Ser Halys Caswell, a hedge knight who led the defense of the gate during a raid by the Ironborn. His red centaur still adorns the gate to this day.

North Gate, led from Goldview to the Rock.

As for some notable locations…

There was a fisher Sept, situated in Seafield. The huge and decrepit temple ministered to the city's down and out, under the watchful eyes of Septon Kyle Lannet who had spent every penny he had, as well as those begged, stolen or borrowed, upon the city poor.

A motherhouse, maintained by Septa Rohanne known as the White Widow, who cared for broken women.

Wasting Close, during a siege by the Ironborn, it was said that a Prince of the Rock starved to death here, after giving his share to the cityfolk. There was an old, rusted brėȧstplate within a wall here said to be his that the locals tap for luck on their way past.

Northgate, around the North Gate was poorer than the rest, although not in the same state as Seafield. It was a crowded, built up area, dotted with wells. No longer used by Lords or other nobles, instead the greater and less crowded Centaur's Gate was used.

Grey Grave, the site of huge death during the grey plague that cleared much of the sprawl. These days, it was a quite wealthy, although not renowned area, where many of the city's newer burghers made their homes.

Godsight, in the shadow of a large statue of the crone. The Lord's Library was built here during the rule of Old Lord Tyrek, who also founded an academy of the arts. It was not especially famed, but many scholars have left their work within its halls.

The Wynd, around the south of the city walls lies the run of taverns and inns that made the city so welcoming to travelers. Many children of the Rock have taken delight in 'Making the Wynd,' meaning to drink a tankard at every inn or tavern along the way, culminating in leaping from the southernmost pier of the harbour. Taverns include 'The Sweet Lion,' The Dancing Star' and 'The Knave and Hound.'

An Old Godswood, burnt down during the coming of the Andals, used as a gravesite for years.

Old statues of Kings and Lords in it have become part of the trees.

Some people thought this place was haunted, and it was a rite of passage for any Lannisport boy to visit the woods at night, being located on the edge of Lannistown and Goldview.

Old Redsept, situated in Lannistown, formerly the temple of the Lannisters of Lannisport until the end of a war, when it's fiery red walls and interior were regarded poorly by the new Faith Militant who burnt it along with it's finery.

These days, it was open to the elements and only served as a crypt for the Lords, who now take part in the New Sept.

The New Sept was ugly and plain, with strange statues of the seven cut roughly from pale sandstone. Over the years, the Lannisters have bȧrėly tried to make it more appealing, and much finery hangs from its ceiling, often bumping the heads of tall men, and giving it a claustrophobic feel.

Old Tyrek's Academy, the artist's conservatory situated in Lannistown, where anyone capable of passing Maester Randyll's strenuous testing could train in the arts of fresco with the characteristic gold inlay of the Lannisport style.

The Trust, the merchant's bank that had stood for a thousand years. But it was no Iron Bank, even if they also took no risks and were known for being ruthless in defense of the wealth they protect.

One could only borrow from the Trust if introduced by someone who was already a member.

But all in all, an easily solvable matter.

And it was precisely that same wealth that gave me the idea of setting up the Golden Bank of Westeros to accelerate the process of improving things.

It was kinda funny how, just like Joffrey did with the Royal Army plan, Cersei accidentally came up with a genius idea to set up a Westerosi rival to the Iron bank without even realizing how genius it was.

Perhaps if Tywin had thought of and implemented it as soon as he took over the lordship of his house, the Lannisters would've already controlled Westeros by now.

One would be excused to ȧssume that the creation of a bank would be a formality, as House Lannister already functioned like a bank, as by the time of the books the largest debt of the Iron Throne was to House Lannister.

But I personally believe that there was a vital distinction: the Lannisters (or Tywin at least) utilized loans as a means of political leverage, not with greater profits in mind.

That inherently limited its scope to Westerosi soil (and still, not entirely), as Lannister interests generally never went beyond the Narrow Sea.

By contrast, the Iron Bank occasionally used political leverage for the sake of profit.

A 'proper' bank set on Lannisport would be focused on churning a profit for its owners and would arguably be more effective in growing the wealth of Casterly Rock.

And while I was there, I might also include a mint (a primary producer of a country's coin currency that had the consent of the Crown to manufacture coins to be used as legal tender), raised with it.

In all honesty, it was interesting that the cities in Essos seemed to have a more advanced grasp on banking, despite the Maesters of the Citadel having a golden link to reward those that studied money and finances.

I guess it was for the better that the Bank of Oldtown never prospered, or that the Trust never really decided to expand beyond a few districts of the city, for the lack of competition would make the initial work of building my own bank all too easy.

But I knew that as soon as I had Tyrion working on it for me, I should expect to soon enough receive a cordial visit from any representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos.

Which meant we would have to strike some sort of deal as soon as possible, otherwise risk having to deal with espionage and sabotage attempts.

Fortunately Tyrion Lannister was more than capable of dealing with them, if not through his political savviness and dangerous skills as a rogue, then by putting the ridiculous amount of gold his house had to use.

Perhaps he might not get the faceless men to deal with his problems for him, but the same was true for the Bank of Braavos.

Just in case, I had him send a friendly letter to Tycho Nestoris, since it was better having them believing we sought them first instead of the other way around.

But money would always be more of a facilitator, the means through which I would achieve my ends, that meant I would have it help improve the economy of the realm.

Blacksmiths, leatherworkers, skinners, woodworkers, stoneworkers, potters, glassblowers, jewelers, tailors, shoemakers, stable houses, barbers, fishermen, farmers, miners, distillers, brewers and especially the goldsmiths were all the target audience.

Like Hallyne's Alchemist Guild, Chataya's Luxury Taverns Line, Mott's Workshop and my Royal Legion.

The trade had just begun breaking record after record once I got Tywin to lower the port taxes, added to the fact that Daven had wisely spent the gold he got from clearing a dungeon with me (and winning the Melee contest during my Seventh Name Day at Seagard) to expand the harbor and hire several more competent dockworkers.

Daven had also set up plans to establish a craftsman's space in Lannisport that would rival the Street of Steel back at King's Landing.

Gormond Goodbrother, the youngest triplet, was fascinated by such an idea after hearing it from Daven.

Merchant's townhouses and trading houses would naturally have a wider variety of goods as a result. But taverns and inns would also be able to serve some of my more expensive recipes.

Business entertainment at Old Tyrek's Academy would comprise every sort of artistic aspect.

This time Gran Goodbrother, the middle triplet, was the one to show interest in.

That said, the residential district will also have the necessary expansion for the expected growth in population as a result of the booming economy.

The City Watch will have plenty of catching up to do with one of my Royal Legion's garrison stationed nearby the city, but they would at least receive a big help with the reforms planned for the wall and gates of the city, not to mention expanding the jail by several levels into the ground.

That gave me the idea of building an entrance for each district to be traveled via a tunnel network.

Which would certainly be very helpful in case I wanted to have people sneaking around the city without risks.

Not to mention having the primitive sewers reformed in order to keep from happening what did on the capital city as it reached half a billion of residents.

Religion will also be another improved segment with the visionary idea of surpassing the splendor of the Sept of Baelor from back at King's Landing, with it also working as the city's official medical ward and cemetery.

Concentrating all the small centers of religion throughout the city into a more influential one, perhaps even gaining a few levels of either Knight or Septon.

And although schools weren't that much known by the small folk besides the existence of the Citadel of Oldtown, the Lord's Library would suffice after a proper reform.

A Central Park with its own garden and small Zoo (to make better use of its astonishing menageries of wonderful animals brought from all around the world) was still just an ambitious grand plan alongside the idea of having a Coliseum for both fighting and sports.

However, what wasn't just a mere plan was the effort to reform the Lord of Lannisport's mansion from an improvised keep to a proper castle.

All in order to better reflect their status as rulers of a great city, entitled to get their own moat after clearing enough space and trained Lions they could safely parede around the streets.

Personally I was more interested in testing my theory of spawning Magical Dungeons out of recently constructed castles.

In any case, to the astonishment of all, the flat lands nearby the City became remarkably fertile and optimal for large scale farming.

And so, less than a year after my arrival, the city overly dependent upon its goldwork had finally diversified its business portfolio.

All right in time for another winter to come.

Not a bad habit to start having from a young age.

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SANDOR CLEGANE POV

When I swore my life to protect the fuċkɨnġ Crown Prince, I ȧssumed he would be different from what he is.

I thought he would be stupid.

I thought he would be weak.

I thought he would be arrogant.

Durrandon was confident as hell, but nothing that he didn't seem capable of backing it off with actions and .

A big child, much taller than most brats his age.

Takes after his father in that aspect, I suppose.

Chin length dark and silver hair with "a stormy blue eye and a magical purple one", as the girls who sighted him so commonly described.

He would undoubtedly grow to be just like his father, muscled like a maiden's fantasy.

The boy even showed no fear when first looking at me.

Not gonna lie, this actually surprised me, most couldn't handle it.

Instead of wincing or flinching, disgusted or terrified by my appearance, the prince actually smiled at me.

A legitimate smile of respect, not disdain.

I was wrong about his personality and attitude.

Durrandon was very bright, well above the clever people I've served before.

Guess he got it from his grandfather.

Even he must have noticed it, given the fact that he adopted the banner of a black lion, instead of a stag.

Even though he was a bookish boy, strangely he also enjoyed hitting something from time to time.

The boy was a natural in that category as well.

Still remember his exact words to me the morning he wanted me to train him.

I was waiting for him at breakfast, as we were preparing to travel out of King's Landing, standing in the back while he ate.

And so the prince leisurely strolled in with a determined look in his eye.

We made eye contact and he spoke. "Sandor, I require you to spar with me. It seems I must become a better warrior."

A boy of six, who had spent two years taking sword lessons from a Kingsguard such as Barristan Selmy, and a Bravossi fencer like Syrio Forel.

The prince smirked at my surprise and said before walking away. "I'll be in the training yard waiting for you, Clegane."

So I walked after him.

He was waiting for me, like he said he would be.

And we trained like that for close to a couple of hours straight.

He has a natural talent for the song of swords as well as the passion that my brother and I have for it.

Quick without abdicating strength, and with great stamina that he never seemed to waste with useless movement.

Even while making our way towards Casterly Rock, everyday for hours at a time, we would spend training.

For several moons I've watched him exercising and it already showed in his seven year old body.

He never lacked skill nor will to fight.

Neither seemed shaken by violence.

Durrandon never shied away in training, and usually took the opportunity to fuċk somebody up with some dirty tricks I'm still wondering where he got them from.

One day, as we were finishing up our training regiment, I allowed him to beat me, just to see if he had the balls to go for it.

Must've been one of the worst mistakes of my life.

The prince circled me before attacking behind my knee, successfully toppling me to the ground.

As I landed with my back down on the ground, he kicked my sword away from my grip and put his blade to my throat, his cold eyes telling me that his mercy would've been a quick and clean death if I was to resist.

Right then I understood he was capable of killing tough fuċkers like me with ease.

How no one seemed to have noticed it was beyond my understanding.

Granted, the prince preferred a quick clean death, but I believe that if his opponent bothered him enough, then the violence would come.

Regardless of that side, Don was a great person to work for.

He allowed me to give him advice whenever I saw fit, allowed me to roam wherever I wanted as long as I did nothing to tarnish his name and never spoke badly to (or about) me.

For those reasons, I had decided to stay loyal to that boy.

So long as he allowed me to stay by his side.

That's why I aided him when he came up with an impossible idea of raising a Royal Army.

But he had already done an ever more impossible feat, by convincing his grandfather to support him, so I was curious to where it would go.

Don knew exactly how he wanted things to work out, and I suppose that's why it ended up working so well in less than a year.

Watching the training these Legionnaires of his were being put through, I gotta say, I wouldn't enjoy having to fight them on the opposite side.

They more than made up their low numbers for quality, in both training and equipment.

The only thing left was experienced, more than they could get by getting rid of small groups of bandits.

Two Lannisters in particular were growing at an impossible pace, back then I guessed it was all thanks to the prince's influence, but never considered to which extent.

The little Lannister, Tyrion, never seemed to be capable of doing anything other than speaking and spending money.

Right now, I could actually confidently bet on him in an archery contest, or that he could seek out a life as an ȧssassin on Essos.

And with this matter about building a bank to match that of Braavos, I suppose the Imp will continue to shit gold like his father does.

As for the Lannister of the city, Daven, he had quickly grown from a talented lad into a skilled warrior, capable of matching experienced fighters on melee disputes.

Swift on his feet and arms, deadly with his sword and really tough with his shield, and seeking to learn how to use the bow and riding a horse.

From what I've noticed, Daven was also capable of inspiring men and boosting their morale, either for their daily drills or hunting down outlaws.

For fuċk sake, how was I supposed to know that the prince… magic… was behind all of this?

When he first explained what he was capable of doing and what he preparing for, I almost shouted 'fuck all of this, I'm leaving'.

But I didn't.

Somehow, all that trust built between us in less than a year, led me to make up my mind and reaffirm my vow to serve him.

He named me his first Paladin, a title I'm still trying to wrap my head around.

You see, it's no secret that I wasn't a religious man.

My faith in the Gods my parents believed in died alongside them.

All the fat and cynical septons alongside monstrous and corrupt knights that I've seen made sure I never attempted to seek it out again.

Before becoming a Sworn Shield, I was satisfied with killing people, and waiting for the day that I could payback the burn on my face that my brother gave me.

But now, after being anointed by a young boy, I felt like I could use all this anger and brutality inside me for a good cause.

Yeah, I'm aware of how stupid it all sounds.

But I don't care.

My blade shall be an instrument of salvation.

May my foes feel the pain of those they had wronged, in this life, and in death.

The Gods shall determine their fate in the afterlife, after I determine it in this life.

For death makes us all equals, until then, I will smite all of those standing against the justice I now seek.

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Daven wiped the sweat off of his brow with his armoured sleeve as we heard Lancel and Greydon sparring with wooden swords.

I was giving him a fierce sparring session, although I was winning as expected.

He glanced up to the stone balcony that overlooked the training arena, only to grin when he saw his two sisters and cousin, Cerenna Lannister dressed in a sharp red dress and Myrielle Lannister in a pale golden one while carrying Rosamund.

Even Pia was there alongside them, taking care of Joy, Gerion's bastard daughter.

"I believe we've an audience, my prince. Again." Daven jokes. "Perhaps we should give them a show."

He flinched when a rock hit him in the ċhėstpiece of his armor, only to look down and see me grinning from the other side of the ring. "It would be unchivalrous of me to begin ogling them, so let's continue your training."

I could see his slightly embarrassed face once his sisters began to giggle.

"Yes, Don." He immediately replied.

Putting his helmet back on and shutting the face part, Daven unsheathed his sword again, twirling it a couple of times before tapping the golden lions on his shield for luck, as he always did.

He got into an attacking stance and activated his Action Surge, but I didn't wait for him to attack.

Pouncing forwards, slashing my sword with incredible pace towards my companion, meeting every fast strike he delivered with supernatural precise parries and ripostes.

Despite his excellent fighting skills, Daven could bȧrėly defend himself as we engaged in a heated skirmish of intense give and take.

And eventually his sword and shield were both knocked to the side before I kicked him in the ċhėst with a jump, sending him flying to the floor after flipping backwards and rushing to hold my sword at Daven's neck as I stepped on his shield.

"Yield." I commanded, noticing the brief silence and awe my stunts often provoked on any onlooker or opponent.

Daven dropped his sword and shield. "Alright my prince. I yield." He wheezed. "Regardless of how many men I defeat in melee contests, fighting you always makes me feel like a green boy who never held a sword in his life."

I grinned and sheathed my sword, offering an arm to help Daven up.

"Thanks." He replied.

Nodding before taking my helmet off, I looked up to the girls.

Amidst the cheering of the other soldiers, I could hear Myrielle and Rosamund applauding gleefully while noticing Cerenna grinning and staring at me like a lioness would to a piece of fresh meat with her arms leaning on the bannister.

While the young and sweet Myrielle had a lot of the naivety Sansa was initially known for, Cerenna, the older sister, was obviously the more ambitious out of the two, as she reminded me of a mixture of both Margaery's decisiveness and Cersei's lack of subtlety.

The Lannisport Lannisters were a cadet branch of the family, which set itself up as sort of a "spillover" bunch, since the family was too large to continue living entirely in Casterly Rock.

There were similar cadet branches elsewhere, the Arryns of Gulltown being another prominent example.

One could also probably compare them to the extinct Greystarks and the still standing Karstarks, except that the cadet Stark branches actually modified their names.

The Lannisport Lannisters were still related to the senior branch, but split off eons ago, just like other distant kin living in the city did.

Namely the Lannys, Lannetts, and Lantells.

The Lannisport Lannisters were sort of everywhere and nowhere.

They're everywhere in that there were loads of them and I've already seen a ton of them already serving as various senior-branch Lannister servants, advisers, guards and whatever.

But they're also nowhere in that there haven't been many prominent Lannisport-Lannister characters in the original story who stood out.

That's precisely why finding Stafford Lannister and his family in the place of the ruling family of Lannisport caught me by surprise.

The only ones I could recall from the original story were Wyman Manderly's maester, whom he distrusted, and Rosamund Lannister, the body double for Myrcella Baratheon in the books.

Indeed, the four year old Rosamund of this reality still reminded me quite a bit of my half sister, safe for her hair being straight instead of Joanna's curly blonde hair.

She was cousin to Daven and his sisters, Cerenna and Myrielle, so it wasn't that uncommon for me to find the girls together.

I gave them all a wink, before signaling for Lancel and Greydon to continue sparring while turning to Daven again.

"You're too fast for me to keep up." Daven painted, quickly recovering his stamina after deactivating his Action Surge.

I just shrugged. "If I slow down then I'm not testing you. Ask Sandor if I don't challenge his strength by raising my defenses to the best of my abilities."

Daven nodded, and suddenly stood straight up almost to attention.

"My Lady." He said.

I turned around already expecting to see my Great Aunt, Genna Frey, walking down the steps towards them.

"Well done, you've shown off remarkably for one-day." She told me before noticing her young grandson, Tywin Frey, watching our training session attentively besides his cousin Tyrek, Tyget's son.

"Lady Genna." I said with a respectful posture. "Are you after a bout?"

Genna barked out a laugh. "Not a chance you cheeky Snark." She said, cuffing me gently around the ear. "Your Grandfather requests your presence."

"You have my thanks. I'll run and get washed up and meet him." I replied back in a friendly manner.

Genna nodded. "Go quickly, he's in his solar."

I nodded before speaking with my Sworn Shield. "Sandor, go see if Samwell and Gran's lesson with the crossbow is being carried out accordingly. And have Gormond prepared for the tour around Casterly Rock's mines."

As the young Clegane nodded in agreement I moved to head through the castle, instantly switching my armor for some fresh clothes, until reaching the main tower of Casterly Rock and entering Tywin's solar.

My Grandfather was sitting at a desk writing out a letter.

It always brought me amusement at how calm he managed to remain despite the looming rebellion or knowing what I was capable of.

Walking towards his desk, I sat down and waited to be spoken to.

Instead of waiting a minute or so, like my Grandfather always seemed to enjoy doing with others to ȧssert his authority, he immediately poured wax on the letter and stamped the seal.

"The preparations for the war to come are finally completed." Tywin said. "Subtlety hindered it far more than I had anticipated."

I perked up at that. "You understand it is necessary, otherwise you might've been questioned for not sharing vital information for the safety of the realm."

"I do understand. But it doesn't mean that it has been an easy situation to deal with." Tywin handed me the raven message, and I read it. "Your tour around the islands was a risky move, I hope it was worth it."

"Three influential Ironborn houses have agreed to support us once the opportunity arrives." I told him. "Lords Harlaw, Blacktyde and Goodbrother have officially bent the knee before me."

"I ȧssume the three lads you've brought with you are their heirs." Tywin said, understanding my political move.

"Only Lord Gorold Goodbrother's heirs. Accepting to ward more than that would've made your claims of obliviousness to their rebellion hard to believe." I explained. "Warding Lord Goodbrother sons can easily be explained as an insurance policy to make sure he would respect the exclusive dealing agreement made for the iron mined from his mines."

Tywin nodded and walked over to the map of Westeros that he had on a separate table.

He took a look around the Westerlands and pointed to the Golden Tooth. "I presume it was you that commanded my son to demand fortifications from the Golden Tooth throughout our borders with the Riverlands."

"A plausible excuse for the preparations you make to face the Ironborn rebels. You can just claim that you were seeking to reform your kingdom's defenses and by coincidence the rebellion started." I reasoned again.

Tywin nodded. "And it helps to be prepared in case of a future conflict with anyone else besides the Reach. Very good. Lord Lefford will take care of securing the area surrounding the Tooth."

"Your brothers, Tyget and Gerion, are continuously enlisting and training men for my Royal Legion until action is needed. I've got Lord Tarly support and commanding skills from Hornhill, your brother-in-law's support and strategic location from the Twins and Lord Goodbrother iron and ships from Hammerhorn."

"You seem ready to take the crown from your father by force anytime soon." Tywin noted with a cold yet amused expression. "Lannisport's City Watch has just received support from Houses Brax, Sarsfield and Farman. Horsemen, Marksman and Ships from what I've heard."

"Like I've already told you. My ambition isn't limited to the Iron Throne." I said bluntly. "Once my job here is done, I will be heading to Storm's End and repeat my efforts there. Besides, I need to make sure all the effort put into improving Lannisport goes to waste."

Tywin couldn't contain his furrowing eyebrow. "Another rebellion?"

"If you must know, no." I replied sternly. "I expect you will continue doing good work after my leave, grandfather. You'll be following every command I send you and I expect you to continue engaging productively with the projects already on the move. Perhaps Kevan can be of use on some matters that require considerable scrutiny."

He nodded firmly. "Of course, my prince."

I retrieved some letters from my inventory, before holding out a pile. "Here, stamp your seal on these and hand them to Creylen to get them sent out."

"Any matter I should be aware of?" Tywin questioned.

"Only making official some deals I've made in your name. All extremely beneficial for House Lannister and the Westerlands, I ȧssure you." I replied dismissively while standing up to leave. "But if you must, read them in order to satisfy your quarries."

I didn't really care, the reason I handed it to him was to keep him updated with my progress while making him believe I trusted him.

The top priorities and sėnsɨtɨvė letters had already been sent far in advance anyway.

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During the night, I led Sandor into an alley, although the place in itself was unpleasant, the smell was like a sweet aroma compared to my first days raiding Flea Bottom.

Hopefully by the time I visit it back, things will have become much more organized.

My POISON RESISTANCE skill has progressed at an acceptable pace ever since.

{POISON/ILLNESS DAMAGE RESISTANCE (Lv. 20)}

Just like with pain, terrible smells and tastes didn't affect me that much, which made it all the better for me.

Checking my skill list… I found another great improvement.

{BLADED WEAPONS MASTERY Lv- 35 (12%)}

Thanks to skills like these, even my slightly overpowered companions wouldn't be a match for me.

Conjuring my INVENTORY, the familiar window with boxes showed all my belongings alongside a diagram of myself and what I was wearing immediately popped up.

The brigandine was great and all, but the look was getting old.

Unfortunately, my current growth speed didn't favor a personalized full plate armor for me to wear.

"How's the Inventory doing for you? Found any useful item." I suddenly asked Sandor, who had remained silent since we'd left Casterly Rock.

"Really useful, my prince." Sandor replied with a nod. "Never imagined that a full water skin could help me catch my breath or a piece of salted chicken could heal my injuries."

"Indeed. I personally find it excellent for storing money." I shared another use of it.

"I see. No stupid thief will be able to pickpocket me ever again." Sandor concluded.

"Again?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You know I wasn't always this tall." The young Clegane shrugged his shoulders. "And with a face like mine, most wouldn't ȧssume I was influential enough to cause trouble."

"Perhaps one day I might be able to get rid of that scar." I hinted, immediately noticing that my sworn shield's interest was piqued.

"Truly?" Sandor halted his movement and grasped his half-burned face.

Snapping my fingers while subtly casting Disguise Self, I managed to hide Sandor's scar behind an illusion.

Handing him a mirror out of my Inventory, I said. "I already can hide it, I just need more power to make it permanent."

The Hound remained silent for a moment, inspecting the segment of his face he had never expected to recover.

Without having half of his face burned, the young Cleagane could finally dare say that he was closer to being described as handsome than being horrendously ugly.

Sandor never considered himself as vain, but the feeling of being able to walk around town without immediately scaring the shit out of children, women, elders and even men, was a welcome one.

Before we could continue on our way, my attention was drawn towards a new window.

{A QUEST HAS BEEN CREATED!}

{PATROL THE SHAMBLES!}

{MAIN OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE YOUR PATROL AROUND THE SHAMBLES IN ONE PIECE.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 1: DEFEAT 20 REGULAR BANDITS.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 2: DEFEAT A BANDIT LEADER.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 3: DON'T GET CAUGHT BY THE CITY'S WATCH.}

{MAIN OBJECTIVE REWARD: 1000XP, 200 SILVER.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 1 REWARD: 2000XP, 500 SILVER.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 2 REWARD: 2500XP, 1000 SILVER + RANDOM LOOT}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 3 REWARD: 1000XP, 100 SILVER.}

{FAILURE: POSSIBLE DEATH, INJURY, OR THE END OF YOUR LEGEND AS THE STRANGER.}

{DO YOU ACCEPT?}

[YES/NO]

'Yeah, yeah.' I dismissed it after accepting the quest. "Let's go Clegane, I want to see your progress."

The Hound returned the mirror to me and nodded, following me in silence.

As I made my way through the winding alleys of the Shambles under stealth, as always, opting to do this the safe way.

I signed for the Hound to quickly equip his armor and weapons.

Clegane's armor would've been hard to not immediately spot, if not for the slight adaptation I've made on it's pauldrons, poleyns and other joint points that made noise whenever he moved, adding some padding in between its plates.

Plus making the shining metal plates matte allowed him to not shine as if he was set on fire during hot days and full moon nights.

I wasn't expecting that he became an ȧssassin sneaking in and out of shadows, just that he could abuse the mechanic of surprise attacking his foes at least once during a combat encounter.

He may be tall, strong and well trained, but just like I once was, facing 10 to 1 odds at his current level, especially against anything smarter than an undead, was an unnecessary risk.

Creeping past discarded crates and rubbish piles, we both sought to get the drop on any bandits in the area, crouching down behind a pile of rubbish once we sighted our first targets.

As I was already expecting thanks to my Mental Map, there was a small group of individuals blocking the mouth of this alley.

Well, they were all just brute-type bandits, not that worthy of any deeper analysis besides their above average equipment.

'Use the vision I gave you to list their sins.' I mentally told Sandor while referencing the Observe skill I helped him acquire.

'Understood.' The Hound replied back, doing exactly as I had suggested. 'Thievery, Outlawry and ****. Grrr…' Sandor snarled at the last part and said with a grim expression. 'All of them.'

'Need help to deliver justice upon them?' I asked, trying to test his Observe skill.

'From what I see… not at all.' He replied after checking their individual stats.

After giving him my signal, I launched towards the edge of a nearby rooftop and flipped over it like a ninja, by then Clegane had already moved to deal with the bandits.

"What was that?" Asked one of the strongly built bandits.

"Heard something?" Another one questioned.

"I… I could have sworn that I've…" The first bandit replied back before having a longsword coming out of his neck, which sliced out of it and chopped the head of the nearby bandit in half.

"I don't know who you are, but you are dead!" A bandit standing further ahead shouted before charging at Sandor with two hand axes and alarming all the others.

"Your misdeeds are many. Now repent!" The Hound immediately activated his class feature, Abjure Enemy, and ended his opponent's mad charge with only a stare.

'He got him.' I thought as the muscular thug bȧrėly avoided tripping, but his legs were visibly shaking. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuck! W-wh-what a-are you?!"

Clegane merely grinned before slashing the man's head off, already preparing himself to face the other two rushing to aid their ally.

"I need you to understand why I'm punishing you." Sandor said with a creepy smirk while shaking the blood off his weapon. "It's not just for your crimes and sins, I'm doing this cause I really enjoy it!"

As the two brutes rushed together, Sandor delivered his Smite, his sword humming with divine energy as it cut the one in the left in half as his animal helm deflected the impact from the other's axe.

"I'm honest. It's the world that's awful." Sandor added before grabbing the blade of his longsword and using its guard as an improvised war hammer, cracking the skull of the last remaining bandit. "But I'm gonna make it better."

From my advantage point, as my Hawk Spirit and I stared at Sandor, I gave a small smile as the young Clegane looked down and noticed being covered in blood.

My Avenging Paladin has evolved faster than I had anticipated.

'What a mess!' I told him through the use of my Message cantrip while pulling the bandits weapons towards me with my Mage Hands. 'Loot their bodies while I have it cleaned out for you.'

Sandor wasn't used yet to everything I could do with magic, my Unseen Servant being chiefly among the examples.

Even though this spell wasn't capable of dealing damage, it was damn useful for anything else.

'Don't forget to clean his weapon.' I informed my Servant while parkouring ahead to another rooftop and looking at my Sworn Shield. 'Ever considered wielding a greatsword?'

'A few times.' Sandor replied back and began following me. 'Never really went for it because it was bloody trouble carrying it around.'

'I guess it is the perfect opportunity then.' I said not needing to say anything else.

'Aye.' The Hound agreed.

…

The next combat encounters were bȧrėly more than a nuisance, much less a challenge, safe for a foe who was actually decent with a crossbow.

Not sure who was more surprised once a lucky bolt managed to sink inside Sandor's helm through its eye opening.

Perhaps it was the crossbow man, since Clegane quickly dealt with him while still having a bolt stuck on one of his eyes.

The Hound knew very well how to terrify his targets.

Since it would certainly not do to have my companion blinded permanently with a cheap shot like that, especially after proving to me that I would survive having my brain pierced like that, I got my 'Spare the Dying' to perform a small miracle and have Sandor's respect for my power grow even more.

Though I was personally more busy thinking of ways to improve his helm protectiveness while still keeping his Hound motif.

About a couple of hours into our little patrol of the Shambles, my Sworn Shield had leveled up at least twice and raised a few more skills.

It was then that things finally took an interesting turn, there was a spacious square between our location and the next alley with multiple quick and brute bandits moving some sort of valuable cargo on a cart.

After using Observe on it, I discovered that it was a large quantity of golden jewelry being smuggled out of Lannisport, probably by someone attempting to steal right under Tywin's nose.

Or most likely just reacting to Tyrion's actions for building a bank here.

Taking my time to channel all of my Eldritch Blast beams into a more powerful one, as it would be stronger than if I just shot all five of them at my target, I aimed it right into the path of the moving cart and watched a really loud explosion blossoming as anything inside its 10-foot-radius sphere got obliterated into dust.

This attack could put a whole on most walls, especially if I was allowed to shoot it freely.

Evocation Magic at its finest, if you ask me.

At least for a cantrip.

'Take care of them, Clegane.' I ordered as Sandor immediately leaped out of the rooftop where we were standing.

From the way he immediately rushed towards action, to me it was clear that he really enjoyed it.

The power, the freedom and even the semblance of purpose to his violence were what seemed to be missing in his life.

I had given it all to him.

He wasn't as unsure about all of this as before thanks to our private training sessions, and that would presumably get better as he kept leveling up his skills and title.

Instead of walking out into the square while carefully inspecting his surroundings, Sandor rushed the group from the shadows while they were still wrapping their heads around my massive explosion.

In order to make things more interesting, I casted a few theatrical tricks like some maddening whispers all around the place and a few creepy illusions to make it appear that they were being surrounded by uncanny creatures.

There's nothing like a little bit of psychic damage to nerf and debuff all the low level targets.

That makes me wonder if I will one day be able to make their heads explode.

But I digress… like always.

Watching how Cleagane and I differed from our play styles was also informative.

Instead of dodging and parrying each individual attack from his opponents, Sandor instinctively understood which ones he could tank without taking major damage, as the armor he wore was more than capable of taking the blow.

Don't get me wrong, I had nothing against letting others scratch the painting of my armor, I just felt more in control by not allowing anyone to touch me while I shredded them to pieces.

The Hound had his thing with smiting almost anything in his path while eventually pledging his vow of enmity and sending some abjuring stares to spice things up.

As he ċumberstomped right and left, the remaining men began to panic and give up trying to guard the cart filled with goods from this nightmarish knight.

Raising his longsword with a growl while impaling a bandit through his riveted chainmail shirt soon after decapitating another, two agile bandits split up in hopes of escaping the slaughter taking place before them.

'Follow the one running towards their original destination.' I informed Sandor, and the obedient Hound began hunting his target. 'Shadow, take care of that fool trying to escape into the Shambles.'

'Yes, master.' My little cat immediately jumped out of my dark outline and effortlessly morphed into her combative form.

Her bigger size and wooden-like armor didn't seem to hinder her superior speed in any way, as she quickly caught up to the running bandit and made short work of him.

Now I just had to collect some loot and see where this group was heading.

With luck I might even continue to watch Sandor gaining experience from this little quest.

{YOUR COMPANION HAS LEVELED UP!}

Nice.

Dismissing the informative windows I began dismantling all the bodies of tonight's victims inside my Inventory.

Even Shadow helped me by dragging the lifeless and half devoured body of her target.

Looking nearby the crater that I made with my focused Eldritch Blast, I could now just pick up the valuable goods the cart was transporting.

Not gonna lie, the gold, silver and jewelry weren't that significant compared to what I already had with me.

But I was about to leave a large sum of it in order to boost Tyrion's effort on raising a bank for me, so the more the merrier.

It was smooth sailing for the rest of the night with only a few groups of Bandits working around the Shambles.

Clegane left his mark by crippling the little underworld business that was already bȧrėly surviving on this well guarded city.

The small change was precisely what I was aiming at as the cold climate finally gave space for snow.

Perhaps thanks to me the Night's Watch will lose some competent recruits, but I couldn't care less.

No criminal will be taking the black after messing with honest and innocent people on my watch.

After those last encounters, Clegane and I walked for another ten minutes before we ran into a Soldier Patrol Post near where the Shambles began to fade into a slightly better district of Lannisport.

Avoiding all the watchmen with a simple use of Minor Illusion, we sneaked away, walking past a few unfortunate and homeless vagabonds minding their own business.

'This power of yours…' Sandor mentally began. '… is it the same as those powerful strikes I deliver when smiting? Or those vows and stares that allow me to easily make grown men shit themselves, as well as hitting and defending like little silly girls?'

I merely nodded, knowing where he was leading to.

'Will I be able to actually perform some of these… spells?' He finally asked.

'That will depend on you.' I shrugged before suppressing a grin, handing him a slightly dense tome I've written myself. 'Try studying this one while meditating. Oh, and make sure to not lose it.'

[SPELL BOOK GIFTED TO A COMPANION: CANTRIP SPELL - GUIDANCE]

[You touch one willing creature. Once before the spell ends, the target can boost one of its stats of its choice for a brief moment. The spell then ends.]

CASTING TIME: 6 SECONDS

RANGE: TOUCH (One willing creature)

COMPONENTS: VOCAL AND SOMATIC

DURATION: CONCENTRATION (Up to 1 minute)

It was perfect for helping him grind the action of casting spells, not to mention that at least for me in higher levels had a worthy improvement.

Bolstering up to three allies within a 10 meter range with toughness of extra HP and resolve to resist being frightened and charmed was nothing to be scoffed at.

Especially if used on me and my other companions.

The Hound grunted as he picked it up, checking the first pages where I simplified the concept of Divination, Enchantment and Abjuration Magic.

'I'm pretty sure you know how to read.' I remarked with a raised eyebrow.

'Indeed, but it doesn't mean I enjoy doing so.' He replied, still working his way through my written words.

'Like I said, learning spells will depend on you.' That was my final answer before I began walking ahead.

'Sure. I suppose it's a good thing that most simpletons wouldn't be able to simply get it, otherwise thieves and mercenaries would have become a trouble to deal with.' Sandor pondered while following my increasing pace.

And soon enough, we both eventually left the slum.

{QUEST COMPLETED!}

{YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED!}

As we walked off through the way we came from Casterly Rock, we ducked into a nearby cave and continued to evaluate our current progress and future plans.

I had also gained a level, which was unfortunately growing considerably harder to obtain through simple quests, and thus had earned a few extra points to spend.

—————————————————————

Recruits from the countryside were preferred from those from the city, because they were more accustomed to the struggles of life from an early age.

They also surely knew how to use the many tools that would be used in my army, and their bodies were more used to hunger.

But men from the cities were also taken in, though they had to undergo a slightly different program.

They were to be trained extra hard in order to be brought into shape, having also to be taught how to bear the weather, use various tools and had to be stationed as far as possible from their city so that they forget about its luxuries and comfort.

After drawing up the recruits, a careful examination began, with particular emphasis on certain desirable feats.

Strong physical shape and good eyesight, high 'shoulder to waist' ratio and 168cm (5.5ft) being a requirement, with anything over that being highly favorable.

The tallest soldier would be positioned on the first cohort of every singular Legion.

Some of the less obvious feats involved was having quick thinking, good manners and hailing from a reputable family, since they were also indicators of the ability to obey orders and show respect.

Even a sense of humor was taken into account, as having one would imply a positive attitude as well as a capable healthy mind (both very useful in times of war to uplift the general mood and morale of the army).

Literacy was another skill that was looked for, as any fighter that could read and write was given a position to keep records and accounts, sometimes even under the generals themselves.

Rather avoid having the same problem Tywin had during the war against Robb Stark, where one of his generals sent a letter with secret information to an enemy by mistake.

The new recruits about to start their four month trial were gathered on the training field.

Equipped with dummy weapons, shields and armor twice the weight of regular battle equipment, in order to develop muscle size and strength to be very quick and comfortable in combat.

With their helmets having a substantial neck guard, ear cutouts, visor and eyebrow ridges finding a great balance between protection and comfort, as the hinged cheek pieces allowed for the helmet to be spread over the ċhėst while marching.

And their armor of segmented plates being both more defensive and lighter than the riveted mail shirts used by some of the best city guards in the continent.

Which synergized well with the towering shield made of alternating layers of laminated wooden strips covered in felt and calfskin with a large steel boss at the center alongside a metal rim.

However, arms and legs were expected to be left unprotected during marches, with easily attachable metal plate guards to be used during combat encounters.

"In war there's one thing more important than killing." Tyget Lannister spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Surviving."

"Not like cravens who run and hide from combat, but like professional fighters, who know exactly when and where to strike their opponents without letting their guards down." Gerion joined in with his usual smile, having ȧssumed some of the responsibilities that his brother had done ever since the founding of my Royal Legion.

Though he was more focused on enlisting men for the Marine Corps I had requested him to train with the ships I had requested from Lord Farman.

"On the battlefield, a man alone is weak and vulnerable. You must learn how to work together, how to think as one. We and your fellow veteran Legionnaires will show you how to stay alive, so you may return from battle back to your families, proud to have served and guarded the realm." Tyget continued with his arms crossed from behind his back and slowly approached the group of recruits. "First of all, let me see your shield wall formation!"

The men before him took their time figuring out how to do so, and the result was far from acceptable.

Instead of wasting his time by sighing disappointedly, Tyget nodded at Lyle Crakehall and Thoros of Myr who were standing beside him.

"Arrrrrgh!" Strongboar and the Red Priest, being big and sturdy compared to the average men, charged like mad men with booming shouts before easily knocking down the shield wall and breaking their formation.

"Corpses, every last one of you." Lyle Crakehall spat while pinning a recruit against the ground.

"Because your shield wall was weak." Thoros complemented after patting the back of a standing soldier who was exposed.

"Dead. Dead. Very dead…" Tyget explained as he approached the group of men knocked prone, staring at each one of them until he offered his arm for one of them positioned ahead of the formation. "Soldier, many lives depend on you. When attacked, lock your feet in the ground. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" The recruit respectfully shouted back after getting up.

"When our shield wall is strong, nothing can ever defeat us. You must learn to work together, react together." Tyget continued lecturing them. "When you do, each individual will become a link in a chain that will be stronger than steel."

Turning to face Addam Marbrand, the Knight wearing burnished bronze armor, he allowed the daring commander to ȧssume.

"Right…" Addam replied loudly after clearing his throat and stood before the recruits. "Today's lesson: How not to stab yourselves."

Shield and sword workout against thin wooden stakes that offered a very small surface for thrusting attacks, helped increase the soldiers precision when attacking and bashing strength of their shields arm.

Several thrusts in the middle, up and down segments while periodically circling the wooden stakes broke the monotony.

"Now, there are five possible stances I need you to keep in mind." The Marbrand Knight began explaining. "Two have to do with your tower shields and three with your short swords."

Making his way between the attentive recruits as they were still getting used with the extra weight of their gear, Marbrand continued.

"Holding the tower shield up to the shoulder protection is the standard position for it. As it is, you will be expected to form a proper shield wall in order to not only resist enemy charge, but also block heavy enemy fire like arrows, javelins and bolts."

Addam eloquently made his point by picking up the dummy sword and shield before displaying what he just said.

"Out of this shield stance, you will be expected to perform three stances with your short swords. First is placing your weapon ready for a quick and precise stab. The second will be with your weapon all the way back so your opponents won't be able to see, much less deal with your blades. And the third one, will be with your weapon on top of your shield."

Even the Bronze Knight had to admit these dummy equipment were fairly heavy, and he wasn't even wearing the same practice armor the recruits were wearing.

"As for the second shield position that I've mentioned, it would be to put it on the ground and use your whole body to resist the impact of the enemy. Keep in mind that while your shields are on the ground you won't be able to move effectively, so this is mainly a defensive position."

The recruits attentively watched the lesson before moving on to practice it themselves.

Marksmanship training focused mostly on the use of the Javelin specially made to mimic the Pilum used by the Roman Legionnaires, alongside the very effective sling, which offered projectiles harder to spot (yet absurdly cheap) that could shatter bones and internal organs.

Followed right behind the simplicity of shooting a Crossbow in comparison to strength required to shoot a proper Warbow effectively.

Jalabhar Xho and Lothor Brune were responsible for training the recruits this time.

"As some of you might've already noticed, your javelins have a unique and specialized design. It's base is constructed of a softer iron so that it would bend after a significant impact, and wooden pins holding both parts together that would easily break if someone attempted to remove it from a pierced surface like a shield or armor. Which will prevent the enemy from picking it up and throwing it back at you." The Summer Islander spoke almost without his accent before picking the Javelin up and hitting the wooden stake.

The Stormlander moved towards the stake while speaking loud enough for all to hear. "You will be expected to throw it at medium range in order to cause casualties to hostile forces, rendering enemies shields useless… but also to discourage opponent charges that are willing to test your shield wall strength." He approached Jalabhar's target and made a move to retrieve the special Javelin, only for it to bend when he grasped the metal part and break apart once his grip switched to the wooden segment. "Now, about long range, how many of you know how to use a sling? And what about the crossbow?"

The youngest and most fit legionaries and recruits would be trained to use warbows by the Sarsfield soldiers, either on foot or horseback, and practice them daily.

And just like close combat training, the Legionnaires were commanded to throw their dummy javelins or aim their pebbles and bolts at wooden stakes to increase precision.

All cavalry, regardless if they were recruits or veterans, would daily practice vaulting on and off a horse (the former without armor while the latter with both armor and arms like a shield and a spear) with the supervision of Brax horseman.

Only once the recruits were deemed able enough in fighting against wooden stakes were they ȧssigned in pairs to train in individual combat.

Brawling and duels, where they became prepared if they were ever caught without weapons or out of formation.

Punches, kicks, grapples, charges, even slashes and stabs with their daggers were practiced in case the situation called for it.

Harwyn Plumm and Syrio Forell brought both dances, Westerosi Iron and Bravossi Water styles, as Hardstone bashed them with his strength and the previous First Sword of Braavos circled around them with his speed.

Harwyn was an unforgiving man, hard-eyed and taciturn, being particularly dangerous with his warhammer in hands.

Marching in front of the line of recruits gathered up to be tested, Hardstone finally halted his movement before one and questioned. "Who are you, soldier?"

The meek man suddenly went pale, but still forced himself to answer the question. "Nic-nicol—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the recruit was startled by the Plumm Knight suddenly raising a clenched fist, apparently intending to throw a punch at his face.

Flinching almost to the point of falling backwards, the recruit couldn't help noticing that the strike never came. Instead, as he opened his eyes to see, the recruit noticed a very disappointed Knight.

"Most fights start off with some display of intimidation and show in an attempt to get the opponent to back off without a fight, as it is more preferable to avoid the dangers from an actual fight." Hardstone said to everyone to hear. "Hence, flinching when somebody is putting on a display is considered a sign of weakness, lowering your esteem in this dominance struggle and making you look like the weaker man, and thus the loser."

He turned to face another man, who seemed to be more experienced in combat. "You. Who are you, soldier?"

The man, having just witnessed the example Harwyn made of the meek man beside him, replied with confidence. "I am Caspor Hill—."

Just as Harwyn repeated the action in an attempt to startle the recruit, this time unsheathing the dagger from his belt, the bastard of the Westerland acted quickly and grabbed Hardstone by the wrist.

"—sir!" Caspor completed almost defiantly.

This brought a rare smile on Harwyn's face, grabbing the recruits by the collar of his armor, he flipped him over before throwing him to the ground.

As the bastard grunted, starting to believe the Legion wasn't a place for him, Hardstone offered him a hand. "A pŀėȧsurė to meet you, soldier."

Caspor finally let out a smirk and nodded back in acknowledgment, suddenly having no hard feelings about it.

"You." Syrio spoke at a random recruit laughing at the quick defeat of his fellow soldier.

"Me?" The man's resolve was suddenly shaken at being called for, looking around for anyone else the Bravossi might've referred to.

"Yes, you." Syrio confirmed before dropping a real sword before his feet. "Chop off my head."

The crowd of recruits nearby let out a few chuckles, expecting it to be just a joke.

"Pardon me?" The man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he picked up the weapon.

"Have the recruiters enlisted a deaf man to join this Royal Legion?" Syrio asked dead seriously, already showing great mastery over the common tongue, before calming down. "But then again, perhaps it was I that misspoke. My head, cut it off!"

After waiting for a moment to see if Syrio was jesting or not, the recruit finally made up his mind and decided to give the man, a head shorter than him, what he asked for.

"Aaaaargh!" The recruit screamed before running at Syrio, raising the real weapon and preparing to make a slashing movement aimed at Syrio's neck.

But before the attack could even be properly attempted, Syrio met his attacker with superior speed before sidestepping him, tripping the recruit with his foot.

As the soldier tumbled down to the ground, the Bravossi fencer offered his hand and demanded. "Again. This time try to make it hard for me to anticipate it."

The humbled soldier quickly nodded. "Yes, sir!"

Weapon training was considered an incredibly important and crucial part of military training, as military instructors (either skilled and experienced Knights or Sellswords) would receive double rations, whereas new recruits received inferior rations.

At least until they have proven themselves before a higher ranking officer that they had attended the demanded high standards.

As for those that didn't reach adequate standards, the Royal Legion had no need for them as combatants, unless their intellect was worth the extra commitment of training him appropriately.

Once accepted into the Royal Legion, after making their military vows (which legally forfeited their right to take the Black or ask for a Trial by Combat in order to escape judgment followed by punishment due to disobedience or outright betrayal), each soldier earned their equipment.

Two simple tunics.

One heavy garment made of quilted and stuffed wool dyed red or blue (depending if they would be ȧssigned or not for naval duties as marines), and another made of a thin layer of linen kept white for the hot summers.

A scarf that helped prevent scarring and chafing around the tight-fitting neck plates, with its color also serving to identify what unit the Legionnaire belonged to.

A Heavy-soled hob-nailed military boots optimal for long marches while carrying their own gear as it allowed for efficient ventilation and a better grip of the ground. Its open lattice-like design of the upper portion of the boot reduced sweaty feet and blisters, while allowing it to drain and dry quickly after crossing rivers and streams. In cooler climates they could wear socks and these boots together, with the option for padded trousers and enclosed boots designs for winter time.

The military belt and waistband (folded in such a manner so it served as a pocket to store personal money and small items) were another piece of equipment each Legionnaire was expected to wear uniformly, with the belt possessing ornaments made out of bronze (and silver for those that prove themselves in the nearby rebellion), given it helped distribute the weight of the armor from the shoulders to the hɨps.

The sounds of jingling belts and the crunch of iron hobnails on their shoes would announce the presence of my soldiers, as the sound produced of many thousands of legionaries marching in step would inspire awe or fear.

Got Forley Prester to deal with the appropriate production and distribution of the Royal Legion's equipment and supplies, as he was very acquainted with the logistics of war.

Ultimately, another very important thing was physical training, since I expected my Legionaries to march quickly and at speed whenever ordered.

So all recruits were initiated into the Legion by marching in line with straight ranks and proper distance while expected to keep the army as compact as possible, especially while in the move and changing formations at command.

This helped teach them the importance of coordination and unit cohesion, as they could be ordered to quickly double or triple the depth of the ranks, or form a wedge/defensive orb formation.

Which was easier said than done, and much practice was needed to perfect this.

That's why I had them running while carrying heavy packs or performing long and high jumps, as it served to help push their limits even further.

During summer months, my Legionnaires were to march 30 kilometers (18 miles) in five hours while carrying around 27 Kilograms (60 pounds) of equipment.

Incidentally, swimming was also part of training, especially if the camp they were positioned in was nearby the sea or river.

It served to strengthen countless muscles throughout the body as well as built-up the immune system for cold weather and diseases.

But I also didn't forget its usefulness when dealing with floods or crossing rivers, like the historical ingenuity of the Romans in efficiently building bridges.

Since combat training was so important, and the harsher winters lasted three months every year, roofed riding schools and drill areas were built in order to keep training my less experienced soldiers.

Other than the cavernous space at the base of Casterly Rock, I had the maze of tunnels and caverns spread across the hills and mountains of the Westerlands.

Though in some more bearable cold days, training outside also had plenty to offer for my soldiers.

On a larger scale, proper marching also had its benefits, as it allowed my Royal Legion to navigate through tough and diverse terrain, and quickly deploy for battle, all the while maintaining order in case of an unexpected engagement.

Which also made it hard for men to desert or get lost from their units.

As the infantry did its weekly marching campaigns (digging trenches and collecting wood every once in a while, in preparation for having them become the building machine the original romans were), the cavalry was expected to march with them while constantly executing small drills (like charging forward only to retreat and regroup back into formation, or practicing various maneuvers and scouting ahead) to get the cavalry men and horses even more comfortable with each other even in tough uneven terrain.

The Westerlands had its rugged hills while the Reach and Riverlands had its rivers and denser woods to challenge my Legionaries even more.

This entire system of difficult training was set up to primarily test the willpower and commitment of my recruits, as many were expected to not make it past their initial four-month trial.

However, the performance of the veterans would be there to show the world that this new way of life was possible, achievable and surprisingly desirable for those starving in poverty or seeking recognition.

Not to mention authority, since I'm the end they acted in the name of the Crown.

And so, I was quickly raising my own army of badass soldiers.

—————————————————————

(02/02/2022)

*Hope this chapter is of your liking.

Anything you wish to ask or suggest, feel free to do so.

Check out my auxiliary chapter if you still haven't.

Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.

Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.

** I really recommend that you check out: "10 Years of WesterosCraft: A Showcase", it has helped me better picture the world George R.R. Martin has created. 😎👍

***Sorry for the delay 😅 I'm currently visiting some relatives on the USA 🇺🇸 ❄️ ⛄️