Chapter 56: Ch 47 The Best in Westeros...
Chapter Text
The bright rays of the morning sun merrily shone through the small window of Jon's room, making him aware that his plan of leaving before the first light had already failed. Knowing that it may be a while until they see him again, his siblings hadn't let him leave until very late into the night, which resulted in him not being able to wake up at his intended time since there were no alarm clocks in this world. It wasn't too bad though as the warmth of his brothers and sisters made the few extra hours in the sun more than worth it.
Jon was kneeling on the floor beside his bed with a small leather backpack in front of him, doing some last-minute packing. He had always had the habit of packing light since his first trip and only ever carried the essentials with him, things such as a few pairs of clothes, a cooking pan, some salt, a water pouch, some knives, and most importantly a handmade hard soap.
Even with all its magic, this was still a relatively primitive world, so people needed to plan a lot of things in advance before travelling anywhere if they valued their lives. They always need to make sure that the path they are taking is a well-trodden one, that there's always a source of water such as a flowing river nearby, and to avoid forests as much as they can even if it takes them longer if they don't want to run into predators or worse... bandits.
Thankfully, one of the best perks of being a warg was that Jon never needed to worry about any of those things. He never had to stress about getting lost no matter how deep inside the forest he was, and he never gave a second thought before taking untrodden shortcuts. And even if there were no sources of clear water in his vicinity, he had no need to panic as his trusty friend, Frost, could travel miles of distance to any stream in a matter of minutes and fill his water pouch for him.
He didn't even need to mention food. From the moment that he was barely more than a toddler, there hadn't been a single instance when Jon hadn't been able to find a game. Even if there was only a single alive animal in a forest, it was going to be on his dinner plate no matter how fast it ran.
So as a lone wolf, he didn't need a lot of things after his basic necessities of food, and water had been met.
Just as Jon was closing the final straps on his bag, he heard a knock behind him, "Come in!" he shouted while turning his head around to see Sam entering his room while carrying a not-so-small sack in his arms.
"What is that?" Jon asked with wide eyes while pointing towards the leather sack.
"Huh? Didn't you ask me to bring some warm bread from the kitchen?" Sam answered with a confused tilt of his head.
"I did." Jon slowly nodded his head, "But that can't all be just bread, Could it?" he said while sceptically looking at the sack that was almost spilling out of his hands.
"Of course not," Sam answered proudly while placing the sack beside two similarly packed bags that contained his stuff, "There are other necessary things such as spices, herbs, some vegetables, a pot—"
"Wait, a Pot? But why? I already got a pan in here..."
"How can that be? They're completely different things," he shook his head as if he was disappointed with Jon, "The taste completely changes depending on how you cook it and what you use to cook so we definitely need both of them for different things," he said as if he was explaining something extremely simple.
Jon shook his head helplessly at that as it seemed that the chubby kid was still a foodie even though he wasn't so chubby anymore.
Months of regulated diet, regular exercises and sparring, had quite a profound effect on the boy. His face had lost most of its plumpness, his stomach also shrank a lot and while he may still be in a phase which people here considered to be fat, there was now a firm layer of muscles underneath that fat.
"And pray tell how exactly are you going carry all of them? Because I can tell you right now, you will get no help from me..."
"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam asked while scratching his head in confusion, "Aren't we going on horses?"
"We are. But not all the way, there will obviously be times when we will need to carry our own stuff," Jon explained with an amused expression, "So choose. Which is more important, your legs or satisfying your tongue?"
A pained expression appeared on Sam's face as he agonised over the dilemma placed in front of him. It took quite a while for him to choose between the two equally valuable things but eventually, he raised his head, "I-I will do it," he said while putting on a brave face as if about to infiltrate a castle alone.
"Fine. Do as you wish," Jon said with an amused smile before a sudden realization crossed his mind. "But, leave that axe here," he pointed towards the axe on the boy's back, "I don't think you'll be needing that anymore..."
"What? Why?" Sam asked in a bewildered tone, his hand instinctively going towards the worn-out handle of the axe that had been his constant companion for months, "I-I know that I am not very good with it and that I am still very weak... but I-I swear I am trying very hard and I-I know that I'll get better soon, so please—"
"Ah! I think you're misunderstanding something here," Jon replied with a raised eyebrow while looking at Sam's flustered expression, "I am not asking you to give up your weapon... I am telling you to let go of that old one since you'll be getting a new one."
After all, how could he ask him to give up his axe? Considering the amount of work it had taken for him to go from being deathly scared of that weapon to becoming fond of it.
Jon could still remember the time during their journey to Winterfell when he had tried to teach Sam the art of fighting and killing... and it safe to say, that it was a complete disaster. The boy was so scared of weapons that it was almost absurd... he would start shuddering uncontrollably even if someone with a dagger just stood still in front of him. Shivering, shaking hands, flinching, stumbling back, crying, screaming, cowering, you could think of any adjective that would describe a coward and it would apply to him.
After fruitlessly trying for a few more days, Jon could understand Lord Tarly's frustration with his son, and somewhat empathised with him... just a little bit though. But Jon didn't give up just yet and decided that if conventional methods didn't work for Sam, he would try unconventional ones.
Over the course of a few days, Jon concluded that Sam's mind and his habit of overthinking were his greatest enemies. The first thing he needed to do was take it away from him. So he devised a simple routine for Sam with the main goal of completely draining his mind so that he wouldn't even have an iota of it left to think, let alone be scared.
The routine went something like this...
Instead of the usual exercise of this world that mostly involved sparring and swinging weapons. Jon had him start with modern-day exercises that focused on completely consuming his stamina, from running to push-ups to sit-ups to burpees and everything else he could think of.
And after he was finished with all that, it would be time for the second part which involved mindlessly swinging a weapon that he liked (which turned out to be an axe,) with repeating patterns, such as hacking, and slashing, as well a sufficient dose of footwork until his body remembered them completely.
Jon didn't give the boy a single moment of rest except for a few five-minute breaks in between and he made him continue like this until he felt that he was sufficiently dazed and his mind was entirely blank... and that would be when the third and most important part of this routine would begin... Sparring.
And his hard work actually paid off, Sam neither flinched nor shivered even when Jon stood in front of him with a sword, and when he aggressively attacked the boy, his sluggish mind was too slow to respond, making his bodily instincts take over and little by little he actually began to swing and dodge like a... Beginner fighter, which was quite an accomplishment.
And that was how Jon was able to help the boy so much in just a few months when his father was completely helpless even with years at his disposal. Thankfully, Becca took over after he was gone and didn't let him slack and lose all the progress, which would have been very disheartening.
"What? Really!!" Sam's exclamation suddenly brought Jon out from his internal musings, "Are you really just getting me a new Axe?"
"Yes," Jon nodded with a smile before he caught sight of the position of the sun through the window, "But we need to hurry otherwise, we won't be able to leave before nightfall," he said while quickly going out the door.
"I am coming," Sam said excitedly and followed Jon after placing the worn-out Axe on the floor.
Both of them moved briskly through the Great Keep of Winterfell, taking shortcuts along the way, so that, except for the occasional greetings, they didn't run into as many people. It wasn't long before they reached their destination—the old but well-furnished smithy of Winterfell that stayed hot year-round, regardless of whether it was winter or summer.
However, instead of entering it, Jon bypassed the larger smithy without a second look. "Huh? Aren't we going in there?" Sam asked in confusion, pointing towards the smithy.
"No," Jon replied in a mysterious tone without looking back, "We're not going there but here," he said while pointing towards the much smaller smithy right next to it that seemed as if it had only just recently finished construction. Unlike the bigger smithy which was a bustling place with its constant sound of clanging of metal on metal, the smaller seemed to give a desolate feel.
Sam was quite confused as to why they weren't going into the main smithy where they would probably get the good stuff. Even though he had only been here in Winterfell for less than a year, he knew that Mikken was considered the best Blacksmith around here, so he thought they would go to him, but now...
'Maybe, Mikken's busy...' Sam thought as he followed Jon as he entered the door to the smithy. It wasn't as small as it seemed from the outside, and looked like a smaller version of the bigger smithy.
It was equipped with various tools such as anvils, hammers and tongs, but there was a stark difference between this and the older smithy. This place lacked the cluttered mountain of tools, armour, and weapons waiting to be repaired, which meant that they didn't get as much work.
There was only a single forge on the left side that was roaring with fire and a huge blacksmith was in front of it trying to stimulate the fire and increase its temperature further. There were two doors leading to additional rooms in here one on the opposite side of where they were and one on the right side, besides which there was a huge stack of ores lying in the corner.
"Tom," Jon called after he saw that the man didn't hear them come in.
"Hmm..." LittleTom turned at his name being called and almost immediately his face lit up when he saw who had arrived, "Jon! You're finally here."
It was only when the man turned around and stood up that Sam realised that he was actually sitting all along. He involuntarily gulped and stumbled back when he craned his neck to look at the man as he rose to his full height.
It was completely absurd, this man was almost two heads taller than Jon who was already considered a tall person. He had read stories that giants lived among the common people in the North some centuries ago and that there were giants still alive beyond the wall but...
"Sorry for being late, Tom," Jon said while patting the boy on his shoulder which he could barely reach, "I was stuck with something—Oh!" he stopped mid-sentence when he realised that Sam was stuck standing at the door with a pale face while looking at Tom with fear in his eyes, "Come on in, Sam. Don't worry, he won't hurt you and no, he's not a giant..." Jon chuckled while beckoning him.
Jon knew what was going through the boy's mind, in fact, it was the same thing that would go through anyone's mind the first time they saw LittleTom. The boy didn't go through puberty; puberty went through him. He was already tall enough before but now... as far as Jon knew, the only person in the North taller than him may be the Umber Lord, and even that wouldn't be for long as he was still growing.
Seeing that he grew up every few months that he saw him, Jon had jokingly asked him if there was any connection between him and the Umbers. And it was then that the boy had shyly confessed that while he didn't know for sure since his grandmother had never confirmed it. He knew that he had never seen the face of his grandfather and that his grandmother was a cook for the Umbers.
Knowing those facts and the non-existent restraints of the nobles in this world Jon didn't need anything further to connect the dots.
The blood of the Umbers may not be the only one... another reason for his unusual height that Jon could think of would be that being a Warg somehow simulated his body growing up more than usual. After all, even Jon was a lot taller than his canon counterpart and the only major difference between them was that he was a warg.
"Is he the one who needed the axe?" Tom asked with a gentle smile towards Sam which finally released the tension in the boy.
"Yes, this is Sam, the one in need of an axe," Jon nodded while looking around, "So do you think you have one ready that he could wield."
"I do. Raul!" he shouted towards the door beside the haphazardly laying ores, and almost immediately the door opened and a teenager came out with a piece of cloth in his hands, "Raul take Sam here and show him all the axes that we have..."
"Yes, Master Tom," Raul nodded while placing the cloth with which he had been polishing the weapon in his pocket while opening the door to the armoury and beckoning for Sam to follow him.
"Go on, Sam," Jon said to the hesitant boy, "Choose the one you're most comfortable with. I'll wait here..."
Only after Sam had gone in and was completely occupied with choosing his weapon did Jon turn to Tom, "Let's go."
LittleTom nodded and led Jon towards the other door in the smithy which was his personal room that only he had access to.
The room behind the door was a big but simple one with a large bed, a large desk, and a small window. Tom gestured for Jon to take a seat before he kneeled in front of the bed and took out a sword as well as a small notebook from under it.
"This is for you... the best I've been able to make until now," Tom said while handing Jon the bastard sword.
"Hmm..." Jon scrutinised the sword very closely, making sure to check every aspect of it from its sharpness to its sturdiness to its balance. Having seen all kinds of weapons made by the best blacksmiths during his travels, Jon was quite a qualified judge, "How close is it to 'his'..."
"About two-thirds, I think..." Tom said after pondering for a while, "I was only able to see him make this kind of sword about three times so there are still a few intricacies that I am having trouble imitating..."
"So you didn't have much luck over this period of time, Huh..." he said while placing the sword on the desk and taking the notebook from him next.
"Sadly no," Tom shook his head with a sigh, "He didn't get too many orders during the time that I've been watching him. So, while I've been able to copy most of the normal techniques that he had taught his apprentices, those secret ones—the ones he keeps to himself... I've only been able to take a glimpse of just a few of those," he said, pointing towards the notebook filled with vague processes, time stamps, and complicated numbers involving metal moulding.
"It makes sense," Jon nodded with a furrowed brow while looking towards Tom, "After all, Tobho Mott... that man is the best that King Landing can offer, so he probably charges the money that is equivalent to that which means that not a lot of people would be able to afford him,"
"That is indeed the case. He barely got three small orders during the whole of last month and except for when he teaches his students, he spends the rest of his time overseeing the smithy, so I think it'll still take a while before I am able to take everything from him."
"Maybe not as long as you think," Jon suddenly said with a cheeky smile while patting Tom's shoulder.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"There's soon going to be a tourney in King's Landing thrown by our very own Robert for his son's name day or something. Anyway, this means that there would be a lot of wealthy nobles attending so this may be the best chance for you."
"Really! T-This is perfect," Tom exclaimed with an ecstatic expression, he had been waiting for something like all this while.
"It is. So you need to be ready to give it your best as this chance may not come again anytime soon."
"Don't worry," Tom boasted while patting his chest confidently, "I've been practising very hard all this time. I can warg now for almost five hours with some breaks with my crow so I'll steal all his techniques no matter how many they are."
"Very good," Jon said satisfyingly, "And be sure to pay close attention to see if he gets any Valyrian steel order, even if the chance of it happening may not be much... After all, he's our only source of Qohorik smithing techniques until you are able to expand your range or we are able to get you to Essos."
"Don't worry, I always keep a watch out for them."
"Good and that is not the only good news I have for you," Jon said with a mischievous expression while pulling out two pieces of paper from his breast pocket.
"These are..." Tom said while quickly glancing through the papers that seemed to contain some form of various kinds of directions towards different places.
"All of these are directions towards the best weapon and armour smiths available in Westerlands as well as the Reach. After all, while Tohbo may be the best in King's Landing, he is not the best at everything,"
Different places in Westeros are best known for different kinds of things. For example, the lances and spears of Reach are known as the sturdiest while the Westerlands are the ones best known for their smooth and intricate armours that feel as if they are clothes. "So you need to be prepared for the hard work ahead because I won't stop until I turn Winterfell into the place where the best weapons and armours of Westeros are made...."
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