Artys Arryn P.O.V
"Ser Robert, why don't you leave me alone with our Essosi guest?"
"Sorry, little lord, I can't," Robert said, eyeing Soryn and the four Unsullied. "Lord Arryn has instructed us that your safety is paramount."
"Please, my lord, we are hardly a danger. We are just humble servants of Master Artys." Soryn raised both hands as if surrendering.
"It's Ser, not 'my lord.' I am a knight, not a lord," Ser Jasper corrected him in a stern voice.
"Ser it is, then. I said it earlier, but I will repeat: we are servants of the late Lady Atherondora. Now we serve Master Artys. We would give our lives for him. We are no threat," Soryn said with an assuring smile.
Give your life for me, Soryn? Are you sure? Those are heavy words. Perhaps let's see if they're worth anything.
I shifted my focus to Kalen and the four Unsullied, who now gripped their spears a little tighter.
"Soryn, these Unsullied—are they mine too?" I asked, smiling.
"Yes, my lord. They are yours. You can command them to do anything, and they will obey. Unsullied are known for their unquestionable loyalty. You have two hundred of them. They would do whatever you ask, since you are their owner now. Same goes for me and Kalen."
"These four can speak the common tongue."
Wonderful.
I pointed my index finger at Soryn. "Capture him."
All four Unsullied sprang into action. Two seized Soryn firmly while the other two planted their spear points at his back.
"Kalen, take the sword from the box and behead him." I met Kalen's eyes. "Let's see if you are as obedient as you claim."
"Little lord, I think you should rest," Ser Robert said.
"I agree. It's not good if you keep calling for heads. You've killed your first man today; a little rest would do you well."
No. I needed this idiot's head or at least the proof of it.
"No. Do it," I said, staring at Kalen.
Kalen raised the sword. Meanwhile, the two Unsullied forced Soryn to his knees. Soryn looked up at me with pleading eyes.
"Master, please forgive me if I have offended you in any way," Soryn begged desperately. His gaze dropped to the sword in Kalen's hand. "I ask for your forgiveness, Master... please."
He trembled with fear, head bowed low, not daring to meet my eyes as if he'd already accepted his fate.
I watched the man kneeling before me with a faint smile. Kalen swung the sword; the blade arced toward Soryn's neck.
"Stop!" I shouted, my voice filling the room.
"Unsullied, step back." I'd doubted it at first, but not anymore. "Kalen, you too. Put the sword back in the box."
So they were loyal to me. "Forgive me, Soryn. I was only testing if they'd really obey my command. Don't worry, you served my grandmother well, and I hope you will continue to serve me the same."
I just needed a little reassurance. Well, since I have that now, I can tell them my plans. We need to do things in silence.
"I just needed to show my guards that I'm safe from you." I turned to Jasper and Robert. "You see, they are my men; they would do what I tell them. They won't harm me so could you leave me alone now?"
Ser Robert seemed convinced, but Jasper stared at me coldly.
What's wrong with you, man? Tell me should I call Jesus from heaven to convince you, or invoke the fucking Seven?
I didn't give a shit about these gods of Westeros or Essos. Old or new, they are the same to me. I am a Christian, and what Westeros needs most is a crusade.
Pity it's not the medieval earth; there are no crusaders nor any Christianity. But I could have legions.
Yes. Creating Roman-style legions is expensive, not to mention creating them is impossible in Westeros with its feudal tangle.
I would have to figure out a way to do it perhaps Essos or Yi Ti or Sothoryos. Though for now, I needed to send these knights away so I could talk and discuss my plans with Soryn.
"Ser Jasper, why don't you stand guard near the door? I have something private to discuss with them. This way, you can still keep watch for me."
"I will be watching. One wrong move, and you will be dead," Jasper said, glaring at Soryn, then flicking a glance at Kalen.
I wasn't sure about Kalen. I mean, he is tall, and in terms of strength, he might challenge even the Mountain.
Kalen smirked at Jasper, as if looking down on him: You little shit I could deal with you with one hand.
"Hand over your weapons," Ser Jasper demanded.
Fine he was doing this to protect me, after all. Jon Arryn had placed around twenty knights to guard me. What kind of threat had he sensed to make him this protective around his son, me?
"Do what he says," I instructed Kalen and the Unsullied. "You know what? Unsullied go along with Ser Jasper and stand guard at the door. You too, Kalen."
"This way all of you can keep an eye on me and also at each other." I sat down on the chair in the room and pointed to the one next to me. "Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss, Soryn."
I needed to instruct him on several matters, not to mention I doubted the letter with the inheritance details was complete. Considering my mother's Targaryen blood was hidden, there must be some scheming going on.
"We sure do, Master Artys," Soryn said, his gaze fixed on the door where Ser Jasper, Ser Robert, and the four Unsullied now stood.
They had practically blocked the entrance. Jasper was in the middle with his sword drawn. On his left, the Unsullied lined up; on his right stood my guard unit—Kalen included—watching Jasper like hawks.
These two are going to be a headache... I refocused on Soryn.
"So, Soryn, tell me?" I asked, forcing a bright smile. A fake one, to be honest.
I used to do that a lot back in my past life at parties I never enjoyed, pretending to care while building connections and forming relationships with idiot politicians who had the intelligence of a goldfish, or with my competitors who'd attack the moment I slipped. Such was life on Wall Street. My employees were just salt on the wound.
I might've died from a heart attack with all the stress I carried, but noI died because of a damn truck.
A fucking truck.
"Master, you have properties across Essos two mansions in Volantis, one in Pentos, and the warehouse—" Soryn's voice dragged me back from the memories of my past life. I'm dead. That life is gone. Now I am Artys Arryn, and my focus has to be this life.
At least there are no trucks here but it's not a garden either. There's Cersei, Tywin, Bolton, Greyjoy… each more dangerous. And the biggest threat? The Iron Bank. They are the single greatest threat in my path.
"Not the ones you told my father about. I want to know what my grandmother had planned regarding my blood," I interrupted, still holding that bright smile.
"What blood, my lord?" Soryn asked, looking confused.
Really? Lying straight to my face? I get it you'd wait until I'm older to spill the truth. But I already know it. Let's not play anymore.
"Dragon blood," I said with a smirk.
"Dragon blood?" Soryn blinked, keeping up the act.
"Drop it. I know the truth about my mother and her links to the Aerion Brightflame," I said in a low voice.
Soryn leaned forward, his face shifting from shock to confusion, then back to shock.
"Don't ask how. That's not your concern. I have my own means," I said bluntly.
Honestly, let's just get it over with. The plan is simple I need to step away from Westeros' political stage, especially King's Landing, and start preparations for the upcoming wars and that dead army. For that, I need to convince Jon to let me go to the Vale.
"Does your father know? Or anyone else about this?" Soryn asked this time, no jokes, no fake smile.
"Yes and no," I said.
"Master… could you please explain?" Soryn asked, his breathing heavy. I think he's taking a lot of unnecessary stress.
"My father doesn't know, but someone else does," I said.
"Who?" His voice low. His face paled with fear. "Who knows about it?"
"God knows it," I said, pointing upward.
"WHAT?" Soryn had a poker face.
He sighed in relief. "Master, you had me for a moment there... but I'd really like to know how you came to learn the truth about your other blood."
"I've already told you—you don't need to know how I learned it. What matters is what we do next."
That's the explanation. I can't exactly tell him I spoke with a celestial being, or that I'm not from this world. He'd probably think I've lost my mind or worse, that I'm diseased.
"Soryn, I might be a nine-year-old kid, but I need you to trust me. I swear we'll succeed."
I looked at him. He was contemplating it. Eight years is young it's expected he'd see me as just a child.
"Do I have a choice?" Soryn asked.
"Not really," I said, staring him down.
"So… tell me, my lord. What do you want?"
P.O.V ends