==Aftermath of the Crimson Scene==
I had the criminals brought one by one under the view of everyone for interrogation.
Unfortunately, that is the extent of my powers as a knight. Any more than this enters the border of Lords.
Still, my attempts at learning the behavior studies are finally bearing fruit.
With the help of AI who points out every minor flaw, like sweating when combined with evasion and other telltale signs, I rapidly dissected their every crime, their headquarters, and the wealth stored there.
As the 12th criminal was brought forward, I observed him closely, noticing the slight twitch in his left eye as he tried to maintain a stoic expression. "What's your name?" I asked, already aware of the answer from the previous interrogation reports.
"Jaime," he replied, his voice quivering slightly.
I raised an eyebrow, noting the inconsistency in his tone.
[His voice trembled slightly, showing potential nervousness or deception.
Acceptable]
"Jaime, you've been implicated in several robberies in the area according to the testimony of your friends," I stated, watching for his reaction.
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around as he tried to come up with a plausible response. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.
I nodded, internally noting his evasion tactics.
[Evasion detected.
Combined with sweating shows potential guilt or deception.
Noting the circumstances and cross-referencing with records, 70% chance of being a Lie.]
"Let's not play games, Jaime," I said, adopting a stern tone. "We know about your hideout in the woods, at the Hideout. The stolen goods are hidden there. Where is it?"
Looking at his silence, Simba roared out.
Jaime's hesitation and resolve crumbled under the mighty roar.
"It's... it's near the old oak tree," he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Good," I said, satisfied with the information got. "Now, onto the next one."
As each criminal was brought forward, I repeated the process, carefully analyzing their responses and extracting the information.
With the help of the AI's insights, I could unravel their web of deceit and uncover the truth behind their crimes.
After hours of interrogation, I finally had all the information I needed. I turned to my companions to dish out my orders.
"Walder, you will take a squad of guards to manage them," I announced. I thought for a second and also announced, "Might as well make use of them. You will ensure all the heavy and menial tasks are done by them. Ranging from Shit Pits to the Heavy lifting."
Walder, despite his closeness to me, showed his shrewdness by acting properly like a retainer, "It will be done, Ser."
I also said to Bautista, "Get the rest of their group. I trust you are capable of this task."
The Man gave a brief nod and took his soldiers with him. I gave a look to Simba, who got up to follow, leading two of his lionesses.
Looking at the remaining pride, I gave them a command, "Eat anyone who tries to escape."
The day ended with multiple idiots being taken into the forest by the Hungry Cats.
-------Night of the Same day----
Amid the night, I stood vigil in the forest, flanked by the Pride. The moon cast eerie shadows among the trees, adding to the sense of anticipation that hung in the air.
I glanced over at Garmond, who suddenly shouted, pointing towards a mound of trash piled up in the clearing by the Pride.
"What is it, Garmond?" I called out, striding over to where he stood.
He gestured wildly at the heap of debris. "Look, Ser Kerith! The trash, it's moving!"
The source of movement revealed himself to be one bandit we had apprehended earlier. He looked disheveled and terrified, clearly surprised by our presence in his escape to the forest. Man, He really has bad luck.
"Please," he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear. "I-I didn't mean any harm. I was just trying to escape."
I narrowed my eyes, assessing the situation. "And why should we believe you?"
The bandit swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously between me and the waiting jaws of the lions behind me. "I'll tell you everything," he promised, desperation clear in his voice. "Just please, don't let them eat me!"
I exchanged a glance with a tiger, which let out a low growl. His gaze fixed intently on the trembling bandit.
With a nod from me, the tiger stepped forward, whose presence was alone enough to send the bandit scrambling back in terror to the rest of the escapees.
Seeing the escapees, I turned towards Garmond.
"What do you know of magic?" I inquired.
"The most widespread evidence is Valaryian steel, which is said to have divine sharpness and lightweight…."
He explained the rumors, discussions, and knowledge surrounding Valyrian steel and Obsidian.
Nodding at his answers, I felt he was finally talking like a maester or an acolyte. Much better than the rough muscle had he used to be when I found him.
"I made the right decision to postpone your entry into magic until you had a basic education. Otherwise, it would have been tough for you to understand my teachings."
The wisdom of waiting for a foundation in basic education before delving into the complexities of magic is well-founded.
Magic is a lot like what we study with the Maesters: it's deeply tied to history and connects with many other areas of knowledge. For example, the Warg bond links the minds of two beings, requiring a good understanding of their personalities and emotions to keep their identities separate. That's why I made you study so hard these past few years. I hope you find a warg partner on your journey.
However, finding a Warg partner isn't as simple as my example suggests. Garmond will have to go through the process himself, without the help of an AI.
In fact, Weirwood sap is precious and tricky to handle. I was fortunate to find a weirwood that's 8,000 years old, which is really powerful and has a vast storage of the sap. It is too precious to waste on anyone other than myself.
Time to test what Garmond learned from working with me.
I asked, "What do you know about weirwood sap?"
Garmond replied, "Weirwood sap is very important in Westeros' history and myths. It's a distinctive blood-red substance that flows from weirwood trees, which are sacred to followers of the Old Gods. Perhaps it is because the sap symbolizes the deep magic of the weirwoods and is used in rituals.…."
I nodded and added, "But because it's so powerful, it's hard to store. Even Obsidian containers only delay the loss. They don't stop it. I had to mortgage all my warehouse shares in Braavos to get a special Valyrian steel container."
I then retrieved the container from the back of the porter Lion, who was always surrounded by dangerous creatures. I took a drop of weirwood sap and gave it to the prisoners. Some fell into a coma, while others screamed in agony.
I explained to Garmond, who looked horrified,
"Weirwood sap forces a person's mind to expand uncontrollably."
Even for a Warg, taking it without preparation can drive you insane or kill you.
There are exceptions, like those with strong magical bloodlines, such as the Starks or Targaryens. I then showed him a cursed compass and said, "This is one of my goals for this journey."
I continued with my plan. "We're going to cast the enchantment at the entrance of the Magic room in the Citadel."
I said while pointing to the captured prisoners. "Human lives are crucial in rituals because their activated life energy is a powerful source. Here, we will use the lives of these prisoners."
Garmond looked uncomfortable and horrified, but I continued the rituals.
"The enchantment will redirect the senses of non-magical people. In this ritual, we're using the prisoners' loss of senses to tie the enchantment to the compass."
I placed the compass on the ground and instructed escapees to touch it.
"NO, no. We won't. You, Madmen."
"Monster. Fuck you."
I raised my eyebrow about hearing that from therapists who enjoy little girls in front of their prisoner parents. While some psychologists say it is me consoling myself. I could only say; Indeed, I am indifferent to these individuals.
I am confident that I can remain kind and give a smile to my followers without significantly altering my personality, even after doing this.
"Simba, Please Motivate them."
ROARRR
Under the threats of the animals, they complied.
[Ritual starting: The loss of senses.]
With a single whistle, the eyes of the escapees were gouged out with claws,
followed by the ears,
the tongue,
and finally, because of blood loss, the sense of touch was lost.
[The compass changing color to grey, similar to the successful case of Peremore on the entrance.
"The focus of their senses before dying will now receive the same phenomenon of dispelling the senses focused on it," I explained.
"Since the escapees are all non-magical, mostly the non-magical will be affected."
Garmond doubled over and vomited. After a moment, I sighed inwardly, reflecting on the brutality of magic. It was the reason I had waited until Garmond had crossed 20 and matured, unlike his teenage self, to introduce him to magic.
And so I continued to list out the magical goals of this journey. "Use the compass to find more magical, because only the magical can see it. Educate them, along with the other talents found. Train them. Find the partners to the Wargs found. Use the attacking scum to progress rapidly in the study of rituals."
I turned to Garmond as I prepared to leave the scene, entrusting him with the compass to carry out his duties. "Just one precaution, Garmond," I warned. "Never use the compass for looking at directions. That feat will give you a fate worse than the Stranger's embrace."
------Kerith's command tent-----
After five days, Bautista arrived with a load of people—some innocent prisoners, others the bandits who held them captive.
The crates filled with food, money, and other articles were truly incredible.
Inside my tent, my core group assembled. Walder questioned, "How will we manage the refugees? They are traumatized and might not even have a home left."
Clinton replied bluntly, "Then they will be motivated. The men can join under Bautista to increase the guard count to match the growing group. As for women and children, they can find some work in the group."
Stevon snorted and explained, "not that simple. Men are not creatures of logic but of emotions."
I nodded at that and answered, "I have been prepared for that."
Turning to my solution, I violently pulled Huric out of the sack, revealing his status as recognized by the clergy clothes on him.
With a laugh, I said, "Who is better than a clergyman of gods to give spiritual support? A septon is talented in wielding hearts the same way we Maesters are in wielding our brains."
I reintroduced Huric, "The representative of the Holy Seven in our endeavor and also the son of the High Septon. If it was before Maegor broke the faith, his status would rival a prince."
Huric snorted and replied, "Not now. Maegor and Jaehaerys, despite their hatred for each other, brought down the power of the faith."
SIGH
I stood firm in my decision to bring Huric here. With him as a representative and generous donation, the former High Septon was all raring to influence the Faith to improve my image.
Huric sighed wearily as he went to heal the trauma of the people under the watchful eye of Simba. It was a daunting task, but one that Huric undertook with a sense of duty and compassion. As he moved among the refugees, offering words of comfort and solace, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in my well-founded decision in the past.
Simba, ever vigilant, kept a close eye on Huric as he worked, ensuring the security and safety of his refugees from the chaotic refugees themselves.
I felt more powerful, wielding both antagonistic magic and faith. It makes me curious about how nobles, great lords, and even the King feel when they use their power. The looks of respect and fear directed at me are becoming more apparent, and I'm enjoying this power.
----Bautista's Pov------
As each day passed, our group's unity grew stronger.
The once-imprisoned refugees thrived in our group, becoming more energetic and engaged.
Ser Kerith, our leader, assigned tasks to everyone, keeping both their minds and bodies busy. With delicious food, including KFC burgers, and comfortable tents, everyone enjoyed a balance of work and rest. Each day, someone found a stable job or life in Travellers.
CLANG
Hearing metal bend under incredible force, I turned to see Ser Kerith skillfully wielding his Gada, striking down a guard during training. "Another one down," I muttered, "That makes it the third victory." With each win, he earned more respect from our ranks, though he looked exhausted.
"Time for training!" he bellowed. I quickly got to my feet, ready to follow his command, especially since I needed to oversee the new refugees joining the training.
I recalled Ser Kerith's war books, filled with detailed diagrams and historical texts from the Dawn Age to the present.
His meticulous attention to detail always impressed me the most.
Following the training manual, I addressed the recruits. "Until today, you were nothing but worthless, like metal crushed under a blacksmith's hammer. But now, you'll learn discipline, teamwork, and respect. From this day forward, you will eat, sleep, and train together. Each veteran here will guide you. Those who can't grasp the basics of wielding a weapon will do menial duties with the criminals. Cheat or break the rules, and you'll become food for our pets."
I nodded towards the large cats, who looked at me curiously. "No rape, no stealing, no abuse of power—whether in battle or otherwise. Now, begin your run!"
Right on cue, the master's pets roared and chased after the recruits.
I wished they had been available when I trained the first batch of the guards. With such excellent motivation like a tiger or lion about to eat them, I knew we could shape these recruits into capable warriors in a year.
"You, with the extra weight! The blond stick! And you, the fool! All of you are on shit-duty for dropping your weapons. And the cowards who wet themselves will clean and tend to the lions and tigers," I announced sternly.
———-Garmond———-
Wearing the cursed compass around my neck, I glanced around discreetly to see if anyone noticed it, but no one did. Master was right about this journey. Only in populated cities and towns did we have a chance of encountering other magical talents.
I watched Master draw various objects with inhuman precision on the blackboard.
He explained letters and words to those attending his lessons, using examples like an apple for the letter "A".
"You will work on these lessons today and come back prepared for my questions. Think of it as a test."
After he finished, I approached him in the privacy of his tent and presented the magic plant I had grown. Simba, who often brought back various specimens from his excursions, had discovered it. According to Master, this was the first magical plant he had ever seen. I had been tasked with cultivating them.
I had been cultivating the plants using the escapees from captured prisoners and plant magic rituals.
However, Each plant growth required multiple lives, making me wonder how many c sacrifices made by the original owner of this magic ritual.
After a few questions and answers from the Master, I discovered the identity of the owner.
The Gardeners might have been the most brutal royalty in Westeros.
"Master, how does this plant work exactly?" I asked, curious about its properties.
"It's a remarkable specimen, known for accelerating the healing process without harming the body's natural limits."
Though there are numerous side effects, this single use is without doubt incredible.
Master drank the liquid derived from the plant and sighed in relief as it soothed his body. "It must be done to maintain my status as the youngest knight," he said, acknowledging the necessity of his intense training.
As I went about my duty as Master's shadow, I noticed him moving among our group, engaging in purposeful and insightful conversations.
Approaching Garhammer, I overheard Ser Kerith saying, "How are the craftsmen progressing, Garhammer?."
Garhammer nodded, replying, "The craftsmen are rough and new, Ser. We could only manage common items like chairs and benches. At least they are fit for sale among the common folk. For the nobles in the Uplands, I will craft some steel tools once we reach town."
Moving on, I saw Master discussing trade with Walder. "Walder, what are our prospects for trade?" he asked.
Walder responded, "It might not be much, but the rugs and clothes made by the women will give some profit. We should resupply with raw materials there. The coats made from lion and tiger fur will fetch a lot of gold."
Continuing his rounds, Master arrived at Stevon's tent, our logistics Maester.
"Stevon, how are the preparations for our journey coming along?"
Stevon assured him, "Everything is on schedule, Ser. Supplies are being organized efficiently, and we should be ready to depart soon."
Finally, I witnessed Master meeting with Bautista, our leader of the guards. "Bautista, are the guards taking the training well?" he asked.
Bautista replied confidently, "Yes, Ser. They will look good by Uplands. By Highgarden, they will be novices."
Master thought for a while and asked, "When will they reach the regular guard's levels?"
Bautista honestly said, "It will take about a summer, likely coinciding with the group's scheduled trip to Sunspear."
------------Uptown, at the foothill of Red mountains, Reach------------
-------Kerith's pov----
We ventured into the Uplands, surrounded by verdant fields near the base of the Red Mountain. Stevon and Clinton, our trusted organizers, estimated our potential profits at over 50%. The merchants among us eagerly anticipated the opportunity to explore the new market and expand our wealth.
"Looks like our efforts are paying off," Stevon remarked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Indeed, it's quite promising," Clinton agreed, nodding in approval.
Amidst the bustling trade, Leonis took center stage, breathing life into the tragic love story of William Gardener and Ellena Martell. His passionate portrayal drew the crowd in, evoking sighs of regret and tears from the audience. At the climax of the performance, Leonis delivered his lines with heartfelt emotion, proclaiming his eternal love at the deathbed. The crowd was spellbound, hanging on his every word.
"So, in life and death, our love is eternal."
"Such passion," someone whispered in the crowd, moved by the intensity of the scene.
Meanwhile, I delegated tasks to my companions, assigning Smallfoot to scout potential investment opportunities in local inns and sending Garmond on an exploratory mission.
"Keep an eye out for any malpractices," I instructed them, focusing on my personal aim—increasing my reputation.
As Bautista silently guarded the entrance, I and the other healing maesters or apprentices tended to the flood of sick in a separate corner of the open field, maintaining a respectful distance from the entertainers.
"Next patient," Bautista announced quietly, ushering in another individual in need of medical attention.
As we waited for the next patient, I explained to the various prospective healers of our group, including the women who expressed a desire to become healers, the importance of compassion, patience, and skill in the healing arts.
"Remember, healing is not just about treating physical wounds," I emphasized, addressing the eager faces before me.
"It's about providing comfort, support, and hope to those in need. Each patient deserves our full attention and care."
As the next patient was brought before me, I took a moment to assess their condition. Bautista stood by my side, offering his own insights from experience.
"Looks like a broken arm," Bautista observed, his voice gruff but compassionate.
I nodded, examining the injury carefully. "Yes, it seems like a clean break," I confirmed, mentally noting the steps for treatment.
As I set the bone, I explained each step to the aspiring healers, who nodded in understanding. I could see they were grateful for the opportunity and listened intently to my words.
"Together, we can make a difference in the lives of others," I concluded, trying to instill a sense of purpose in them. "Let's continue to learn and grow, so that we may better serve those who come to us in their time of need."
-
-
-
"Ser, it is an emergency.
Lord Mullendore is arriving from his keep."
Clinton's panicked entrance disrupted the healing area, his urgency clear as he relayed the news of Lord Mullendore's impending arrival with his guards.
With a nod from Bautista, we quickly exited the healing area, leaving instructions for the maesters to continue their work uninterrupted.
Stepping outside, I made my way to the entrance of the field where the road connected, Simba faithfully accompanying me. Lord Mullendore was already dismounting from his horse as we approached.
"Greetings, Lord Mullendore," I called out, extending a warm welcome.
"Welcome to the Travelling Travellers."
An awkward silence fell as the newcomers laid eyes on the unique mascot of our group, Simba.
Meanwhile, I noticed a few smart individuals casting glances at Bautista and my guards, noting their full plate armor.
Lately, I find it easier to understand people, as if all my hard work and experience have suddenly clicked together."Can't you see you must kneel before the Lord, kid? Or has your fame and wealth gone to your head?"
One of his retinue members, brimming with arrogance and envy, interrupted the silence by demanding that I kneel before the Lord.
I rolled my eyes in response, and Simba let out a short growl, sensing the unnecessary tension. There was no protocol dictating my need to kneel here, as I hadn't pledged loyalty to Lord Mullendore, nor was this his court.
Indeed, I did him a favor by eliminating the bandits.
Most importantly, his retainer challenged my knighthood, which was given upon me by his superior's superior, Lord Hightower.
Glancing at Simba to calm him, I observed the Lord Mullendore. He appeared fit with classic Andal Features-Blonde and jovial face and his next words only confirmed his intelligence.
"No need for that," Lord Mullendore interjected smoothly, diffusing the tension. "Ser Kerith has helped maintain the king's peace by apprehending the criminals. Not to mention, he is the most talented healer in Citadel's history and the youngest knight in history. Forgive my retainer for his jealousy; he will be punished accordingly. Hmm, ten whips will do."
Lord Mullendore then expressed his eagerness for a tour of the wonders within our Travellers, his demeanor shifting effortlessly from formality to geniality.
"I heard many great things about this group here. I already saw one. Now, I want to see others."
Chuckling at his adept politicking, I admired his skill in turning an awkward situation into an opportunity to forge a relationship.
As the direct vassal of Lord Hightower, the one who knighted me, Lord Mullendore sought to extend his courtesy as a host, and I was more than willing to reciprocate.
-----------------------------------------
Garmond's journal enchanted with secrecy.
Written in ??? , at the deathbed of Garmond, [Designation : ????]
Stored in ???
------
It was a successful trip to Uplands, where my fortunes turned with the discovery of another magical. Judging by his appearance, of him being a Warg.
Our journey then took us to Honey Holt, where we crossed a bridge over the Honeywine River. From there, we traveled to the coastal Bandallon, and then to Brightwater Keep, which rests at the end of the Honeywine River. Finally, we traversed the wild mountains to reach Horn Hill.
It was in these mountains that I found my warg partner, Red Hawk. According to my master, the perspective offered by him allowed me to improve my vision. Now, I could notice Leonis's flaws and even found a weapon as a result - a bow.
As for the group, it grew rapidly because of our growing reputation, and the increased sense of safety we provided. It became a renowned place for finding fame, fortune, and skills, setting one up for life.
The magical population grew to 13 as we entered Highgarden.
Among them, over 7 are confirmed Wargs, highlighting the prevalence of First Men's culture hidden among the Andal kingdoms.