The Next Day, Dawn:
New Keep, White Harbour:
The morning sun was still hidden behind the mountains when Jon walked out into the training yard of New Keep. Adjusting his gloves, he cared not for the bewildered stares he drew from the guards as he walked to the shed where the training gear were held.
Dressed in a salt-stained leather brigandine over a thick padded gambeson, he only spent a few minutes looking around before lifting one of the heavier round shields.
Strapping it to his left arm, Jon began jogging around the training yard with the shield raised, acting as though he was part of an advancing shield unit.
Stopping as he finished his first lap, he began shuffling backwards, hopping in a zig-zag pattern while holding his shield up in a raised position.
As he reached the starting position, the young man repeated the process all over again, running through the shield drills that Ser Rodrik had hammered into his skull.
The straps of the shield bit into his forearm, but he barely felt any strain. He was also not making use of his 'unique changes' as this was something he had honed to the best of his abilities before he unlocked his Blackfyre heritage. He wanted to keep it that way.
Finishing the tenth backwards running lap, he turned and running side to side, uncaring for the biting cold of the wind. 'Pivot, raise the shield, scurry, drop low and scurry. Pivot, raise the shield, scurry, drop low and scurry.'
"You're up early, Snow," A voice spoke as Jon stopped his warm-ups, glancing over at where a lanky man with a broken nose and a stern gaze walked onto the training field with a frown and dressed in a heavy leather vest over a wool shirt and leather pants.
"Good morning, ser, and I've been trained by Ser Rodrik to be on the field and train before the first rays of the morning sun touches the castle."
"Good. If only half of the lazy shits that are the guards would do the same," the knight spoke with a scoff, spitting to the side before Jon noticed the blunt iron practice mace at the man's side and the practice sword he held in hand. "The name's Marlon Long, cousin to the current Lord of House Long, sworn sword of Ser Wendel and the master-at-arms of New Keep."
"Jon Snow. Pleased to meet you, ser Marlon."
"Aye, good to meet you too," Jon couldn't help but feel the man was telling the truth, especially when he spat to the side again. He did not get much time to think on that as the sword was tossed to him, catching it with ease while Marlon unclipped the mace from his side.
"Come on, I need to see what you can do before I can train you," the knight spoke with a gruff snort as he swung his mace, Jon narrowing his eyes as he stepped back and twirled his own sword.
He noticed how the guards were beginning to pour in, each taking a glance and shaking their heads as if he was a doomed man.
'Keep it strictly human. Make sure to not use your abilities,' he thought, shield raised and blade held in his right hand as Ser Marlon's stern gaze scanned his stance.
"Ready?"
"As I ever will b-!" Before he could finish, the lanky man lunged with a sudden speed and swung at him with a force that contradicted his thin form.
Jon grunted as he pivoted on his right heel, angling the shield to let the mace slide off. It cracked against the shield and the impact vibrated through his arm, but Jon held as he lashed out with a quick thrust at the knight's exposed left thigh.
Marlon grunted and twisted his hips, displaying a surprising act of agility as he caught the blade on the haft of his mace and pushed with a hard shove.
Jon's boots skidded across the cold earth, but he managed to recover, hopping backwards in a tight zig-zag with his shield still raised.
"Good! You don't try to take the blows head on," the Knight marked with a razor-sharp, focused look, "but your counter was too late. You aren't good when it comes to fighting defensively with a shield, are you?"
"No, ser," Jon decided to be honest, readying himself as the knight nodded before he closed the distance again. This time, he swung his mace from side to side in rapid succession and Jon did his best to keep up.
He ducked the first and parried the second with the rim of his shield, stepping into a counter-slash. Marlon's eyes narrowed as the young man clashed with him, a bit impressed that he wasn't sent stumbling backwards.
For the next few minutes, the two fighters continued clashing and Jon enjoyed the burn of his body as he forced his Aether not to heal his wounds.
Taking a heavy blow to his left shoulder that he know would bruise, Jon surprised the knight when he punched forward with his shield. The blow connected against Ser Marlon's chest and Jon capitalised on his surprise as he pulled the straps loose with his sword hand.
With a grunt, he threw the shield and rushed in after it, Ser Marlon smacking it to the side right as Jon slipped under another swipe and smacked the back of the knight's knees.
The blow made the knight's legs buckle as he sunk to a knee, spinning around only to get a drop kick to the chest that made him fall onto his back.
Before Jon could continue, he watched as the lanky man rolled with the blow and got to his feet, rushing in with a heavy down swing that pulverised the dirt where he had laid.
Rolling to his feet with his dive out of the way, he grimaced at the throbbing pain from his left shoulder, but didn't dare to look at it as he spun his blade.
"Throwing your shield to distract your foe? Good! Had that been a real blade, I'd be short a leg and an advantage," Instead of looking displeased at the underhanded tactic, Ser Marlon had a look of satisfaction on his face.
"Like you said, I am not good with a shield and it would have nothing more than a faulty anchor, ser."
"Aye, and an anchor that does not work correctly is not good for the rest of the ship," Marlon laughed, drawing murmurs from the gathered crowd of guards. Then, Jon was surprised as the man clipped his mace back to his belt and nodded. "I like what I see, Snow. Rodrik built a good foundation, but now, it is time for you to learn how to truly improvise on the battlefield."
"I look forward to your training, ser."
"You say that now," Marlon snorted before turning to the rest of the guard. "Blackmyre, you and Beesbury get over here and help Snow get up to speed on squire duties!"
"Yes, ser!" Jon relaxed his stance as he turned his head to the two men approaching him while ser Marlon turned to bark at someone else.
The one on the left was of the North, having the same curly blackish-brown hair, dark brown eyes and surly face like the average Northern man.
The one on the right though looked more like he was from somewhere else with his slightly pale/ tanned skin, curly light brown hair and slender frame that wasn't as burly or bulky as everyone else's.
"Alright, Snow. Follow me," Jon noodded as he followed after the first one, Blackmyre he believed his name was. Then again, it could have been the name of his House so who knows? "Oh, and the name's Rondil Blackmyre, squire to Ser Wendel. This is-"
"Lyonel Tyrell, now Beesbury since I wished to take my mother's name, and squire to our refined ser Marlon," Lyonel cut off his friend, to which Jon nodded while feeling pleased that he had guessed the man's origin correctly.
'Come to think of it, they barely look older than I do so perhaps they're just a few years older like Greyjoy is?' he thought, following the two to the large shed of training gear.
The moment they stepped into it, he grimaced at the smell, staring at the grime and dirt covered training armour and weapons.
"Yeah, you get used to the stench, though I wish you didn't," Lyonel murmured, making Jon raise an eyebrow before glancing over to Rondil as he snorted.
"Ignoring the wuss here, all you need to know is that the gear needs to be scrubbed, oiled and repaired by midday. If it isn't, the whole guard gets extra laps around the training yard in full mail and you're stuck with cleaning those along with the scathing looks from everyone else."
"And what is my duty?"
"Since there is no ongoing war and Lord Wyman would most likely call one of his many assistants instead of his squire to pour him wine or fetch him food, you're stuck with us for the first half of the day," Rondil spoke, grabbing a stiff bristled brush and a tub of thick hog-grease soap. "Now, we best get to work with cleaning, oiling and mending
"I...see," It wasn't exactly the grand squireship he had been expecting, but Jon just gave an easy smile as he rolled up the sleeves of his gambeson with a nod.
Picking up a scraping tool, he surprised his new companions when he got to work, scraping through the layers of dried mud and salt-rime on the first boot.
Every time he pushed down, it sent a sharp throb from his left shoulder, but he ignored the pain, pushing through it as he wanted to at least spare his Aether until he found a source.
'There are many to be used here, but the purer, the better, which leaves only two,' he thought, thinking to the two high-priority daughters.
Unfortunately, the only way he could freely drink from them was if he used Alluring Eye and it didn't sit right with him to return Lord Wyman's hospitality by compelling his granddaughters to let him drink their blood.
'I suppose I can make due with regular whores in the city brothel, but for that to happen, it'll have to be in the middle of the night,' With a frown, he pushed the thoughts of scheming back and continued with his work.
"You know, Snow, that move you pulled on Marlon? It was completely unlike the stories of honour that I was told the Stark liked to uphold."
"Honour doesn't do you much good if you're lying on your back from a stab to the back," Jon replied smoothly. "My father taught me honour and how to hold a line, yes, but ser Rodrik forced me to learn how to make my opponents move to where I can win."
"And you don't care for how that makes you look?"
"If I am battling a duel in front of a crowd, I will fight fair. However, if it's on the battlefield, the only thing my family will care for is if I return safely to their arms."
"A sensible outlook, Snow," Rondil grunted, stitching a torn leather strap. "Marlon hates squires who don't know how to adjust when they are without a shield."
"Oh, by the gods, it happened one time, okay? I wasn't prepared for the guy to just grab my shield and headbutt me."
"That is also why you got told that you look like a bag of burned milk."
"...How is that even an insult?" Jon couldn't help but ask, drawing a shrug from Rondil as Lyonel snorted.
"One thing you will learn is that ser Marlon has the stupidest yet most creative insults in existence. Just flinch at one you think sounds bad and laugh when he tries to make a joke."
"So, stroke his ego?"
"See? You're already learning," Lyonel chuckled and Jon smiled as Rondil nodded.
"That he is. Now, keep working or else I'm going to tell ser Marlon that you two are gossiping like a couple of housewives."
"Oh, the horror."
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Later that day, Midday:
"Seven hells, that was tiring," Lyonel moaned with a relieved sigh as they exited the shed and while Jon wasn't as vocal, he couldn't help but agree.
The bruise from his left shoulder was now nothing more than an ache in the back of his mind, one that he could ignore with the new pains of his wrists and arms from having to scrub, oil and grease over fifty damned chestplates.
"If you have a damn problem with my orders, just let me know, Beesbury," Jon hid his smirk when Lyonel turned even paler at ser Marlon's voice, Rondil crossing his arms with a snort.
"O-Oh, not at all. On-On the contrary, I found it quite relaxing."
"Spare the arse kissing for someone who cares. Snow, how was your first time scrubbing?"
"A pain, but also satisfying for some reason."
"That is merely the satisfaction of doing hard work on your own and not delegating it to someone else," Marlon replied with a snort as he looked him over. "What size are you?"
"Size, sir?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Snow," the knight grunted, stepping closer while Jon blinked as the man measured the width of his shoulder and the length of his torso. "Decent frame, lean but wide enough. Oi, Wylis! Get over here!"
Jon raised an eyebrow as he watched Ser Wylis stop his sparring with Ser Wendel, both men walking over with mirrored frowns as Marlon turned to them.
"What now, Marlon?"
"What size do you think would fit him?" the knight asked, making Wylis look at Jon with a hum while Wendel was the one to reply.
"Blackmyre?"
"Yes, ser?"
"Give him one of the early ones we made for you. Half-plate, the deep black with the wave pauldrons," Rondil nodded while Jon just stayed silent, the squire returning moments later with a rather heavy-looking crate.
"Open it," Wylis spoke and Jon stepped forward, flipping the latches on the crate and lifting the lid. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he reached in pulling out a magnificent set of castle-steel half-plate armour.
It was lacquered in a midnight black that absorbed the pale Northern light, the pauldrons subtly etched with a faint teal-green wave pattern.
"A squire to my father needs to look the part and this is one of the best ones we have."
"T-Thank you, ser Wylis," Jon murmured with genuine surprise, a bit stunned that someone would actually give him a gift of such quality.
"Enough gawking. Put it on. Blackmyre, Beesbury, help him strap it on," Jon eagerly helped the two squires as they helped him put it on, letting them buckling the straps in with a wide smile.
"Now, you look like a warrior." Wendel spoke with a smirk as Lyonel and Rondil stepped back, both squires having impressed smiles on their faces as Jon turned and hopped around in the armor.
"How does it feel, Snow?" Ser Wylis asked and Jon rolled his shoulders before looking at the man with a smile.
"Incredible."
"Good. Now, take it off," Jon nodded as Rondil helped while Lyonel was dragged to the sparring circles by an eager Marlon. "We need to adjust some of the straps and put a Stark wolf on it. It will be up at your room by tonight. In the meantime, go clean up. My father has asked that you report to his solar for your squire duties."
"Understood, ser," With a nod, Jon let Rondil pull off the armour and shook his body, giving a final bow to the two sons of the Lord Manderly.
Then, he turned and began jogging across the training yard towards the castle to clean up before meeting the lord.
'Well, this is going much better than I expected.'
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A few minutes later:
The Lord's Solar, New Keep:
KNOCK KNOCK
"Enter," one of the two guards standing next to the door opened it, Jon entering with a murmured thanks.
His eyes swept over the room, taking in the smells of old parchment, lavender and a very sweet-smelling wax radiating from the burning candles on the massive desk.
Lord Manderly sat behind it, his large frame overflowing from his chair while his sharp eyes peered at him over the mountain of rolled-up scrolls and leather-bound ledgers.
"Ah, Jon! Step inside, my boy," Wyman spoke with a jovial smile, gesturing to the sturdy chair opposite of him. "Sit and tell me how your early squire duties went."
"Much better than I expected them to, my lord," the young man replied, offering a respectful bow before sitting, "though, I think I may have drawn the unwanted attention of Ser Marlon."
"Ah, yes. I heard of your little trick you used this morning in training," The lord spoke with a wobble of his chin as Jon stared at him. "It's good to see that Lord Stark saw it fit to have you and your trueborn siblings learn the true nature of battle from an early age."
"My father has always been thorough, my lord."
"Aye, Lord Stark is a good man, perhaps too good for some of the darker aspects in this world," the man ended with a soft mutter, making Jon narrow his eyes ever so slightly as the lord looked at him with a smile. "Wylis tells me that you have a sharp eye for tactics and detail, Jon. Is that true?"
"I do not like to toot my own horn, but I was Maester Luwin's best student when it came to economics and battle studies."
"Wonderful. Here is your first duty. Read through this ledger and tell me what you see."
"Is it not a bit above my station to see the private ledgers of House Manderly, my lord?" Jon asked, to which Wyman snorted as he lifted the heavy ledger and the young man took it.
"It is, but you are my squire. I would like Wylis to at least have one man that would be able to help him with the numbers and not try to steal from me."
'So, this is the first test of my squireship here, then?' Jon thought as he placed the ledger down and opened it. It was a trade manifest, he noted, one from a Braavosi merchant cog named The Salted Trident that had been docked in the outer harbour five days prior.
From what he could read, the entries listed only light goods, from bales of wool and fine silks to casks of cheap wine. However, as he traced the weight tallies to the harbour master's displacement logs, he couldn't help but notice a little error.
"The draft depth here, my lord."
"Yes? What of it?"
"A ship carrying textiles shouldn't be riding this low in the war," Jon replied, lifting his gaze to see the satisfied smile on the man's face.
"Why not?"
"Because it's a ship carrying textile cargo. The only way this would be possible is if they were concealing something incredibly dense."
"Ha!" Jon blinked as the man slammed a heavy hand onto the desk, sending a few scrolls tumbling to the ground with a proud grin.
"Exactly! I thought the very same which is why I had Wendel, Marlon and a group of our family's best guards go and inspect their ship. As it turns out, the ship was actually a way to smuggle in castle-grade steel, crossbows and vials of the Greycap poison."
"Is someone planning to attack the castle?" Jon asked, looking a bit concerned as Lord Manderly shook his head.
"Not any longer, but the fact that the ship docked first in King's Landing before coming here leads me to believe that there may have been another objective in mind. Unfortunately, the prisoners bit their tongues off before we could question them any further, so we'll never know."
'Littlefinger,' the name came immediately to mind as Lord Manderly continued talking, Jon narrowing his eyes with a frown. He knew from the memories of the show that Littlefinger had hired an assassin to kill Bran after his accident to fan the flames of war between the Starks and the Lannisters.
'Could this also be a ploy? It has been a day so Bran would have been caught in the accident, but a raven for that had not arrived yet,' he thought, looking at Lord Manderly as the man finished talking.
He needed more information, but he also needed a way to get it from Wyman without looking suspicious."
"My lord, a question if I may?"
"Yes?"
'Alluring Eye: Stage 1,' Instead of trying to compel the man, he simply gave a sense of endearment to Wyman and was pleased when the man's smile turned a bit more honest.
"May I ask why you told me all of this? Should this not have been kept secret?"
"You understand that you are a Stark in everything but name, do you not Jon?" was the Lord's reply, continuing when Jon looked slightly confused. "If I had kept this secret from you and it turned out to be a dagger aimed at Winterfell, I would never forgive myself.
However, by telling you, I am honing the weapon known as your wit to help you watch over your father's house, even from afar. That is the true purpose of any vassal, Jon. We are the first and last line of defence that ensures our liege lord does not need to fight at all."
"I understand, my lord, and I will strive to be the sharpest weapon you need to be," Jon responded with a frown and a determined nod, feeling profound respect for the lord whom smiled.
It appears that the tales he read about him being the fiercest Stark loyalist were actually an understatement.
"Good. Now, I want you to look over these ledgers," the man grunted as he pushed forward the three stacks of ledgers on his desk and making Jon's eyes widen. "See if any other ships from the Free Cities have similar draft discrepancies before The Salted Trident came here."
"As you command, my lord," With a heavy sigh that made the Lord Manderly snicker, Jon picked up the first ledger and got to work."
Who knew that squireship would be nothing but writing and scrubbing? Not him.
A/N: And we end it here!! However, next chapter is a bit of a skip and picking up the speed a notch as we move onto a little sub-plot I've had in mind.
Next chapter: Shadows Under the Water.
As always, read, enjoy, review and until the next one...
Ba-Bye~!!