The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 30 - A Wolf's Letter & A Giant's Spoon

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Wylis arrived at his solar, still wearing a simple towel. He took a seat and received the two ravens from Qyburn. They were tiny folded parchments, small enough to send with a bird. But it was still sealed with wax. 

He unrolled the raven from King's Landing first and read it under his breath. The handwriting clearly belonged to Lord Arryn. Robert had just gotten married, so it was nonsensical to expect his writing. 

I wonder if he still panted ‘Lyanna’ to Cersei. 

Shaking the annoying thoughts away, he read the contents and sighed. Then he read the raven from Lord Hoster Tully. 

“The one from King’s Landing’s no command, more a request. They want me to ride to the Riverlands and settle some quarrel between House Tully and House Mooton. Blood’s been spilled, it seems.” Wylis said and picked the other paper. “Lord Hoster’s brother, Ser Brynden, was hurt, though not too badly. Now he’s asking my help to bring Maidenpool to heel, and the Crown’s in favor.”

“They cannot treat a Lord as some plaything to command at whim,” Qyburn murmured, a strange gleam in his eye. “My Lord, you hold the right to decline, should it please you.”

Hmm… Are there any penalties for failing quests?

"Or," Elia chimed in. "You could agree, but only if you're given some rewards."

"Aye, the raven from the Crown did offer me coin, armor for my men. Lord Arryn seems to know our troubles. He offers to send men and women seeking opportunities. But that’s not why I’d agree. Lord Hoster offers me spoils, anything I choose to take, and if I recall, House Mooton still sails a merchant fleet."

The more he thought, the more lucrative it sounded. He didn't know if he could plunder the town. It was a pretty old and historic one. 

"But such political appeasement is the Crown's duty. Lord Hand should send a Kingsguard. Why seek you?" asked Qyburn. 

"Probably Robert's work," Wylis replied, puffing his chest and mimicking. "Bah! Gods be damned, just ask Wylis to finish them. He's nearby." 

Neither Elia nor Qyburn had much of an impression of the new King, so they didn't say anything. But they accepted Wylis' words. If the King suggested it, then refusing wasn't the wisest decision. 

Could they be helping me? Wylis pondered it. Having him, another of Robert's close friends, be a powerful lord definitely helped the Crown. They knew he was more of a warrior, not a politician, yet they wanted him to stand between House Tully and House Mooton, who supported the Mad King.

"I’ll ride out in three days. I’ll take fifty men with me. I’ve no mind to throw them into a fight, but they need the feel of the road and the weight of their arms. Ramsgate will soon swell with people, and we’d best be ready for it."

"Well thought, my Lord. I believe a few maesters will also start arriving soon," Qyburn said. "I will entertain them while you're away… outside the castle."

"Good. Brandon will remain here. Should any haughty lord cause trouble, he’ll handle it without wasting thought on pride. For now, help me put together a few booklets for the men. One for simple reading, and one for the basic fighting stances."

Qyburn's eyes sparkled at the thought. "Aye, I do remember. I'll go right away and ready them."

It's great to have mad men like him. Wylis smiled, watching the old Maester leave. The man was addicted to the printing press and the entire process of printing. 

"My lady." 

Just as Elia was about to leave, Wylis stopped her. It was awkward with him still half-naked, seated in just the towel. 

"My lord?" 

“Have the Martells or the Daynes ships to sell? Or men who can build them?” he asked. 

Elia pondered for a moment and took a seat before the grand table. “House Martell has a few ships, yes, though they’re only meant for trade. House Dayne’s are the same. Even we must look to Essos when we need more.”

Wylis nodded and stood up suddenly. He walked around the table to Elia's side, his nude torso in plain view, every inch of him covered in a suit of muscles. "Can you point me to where in Essos I must look?"

"I… I…" Elia stuttered, her thin brows high, eyes dark on his chest. "I can… do that."

"Great!" Wylis clapped, breaking that little trance-like state. "I'll go and start preparing."

####

He’s… big. 

Elia Martell had great self-control. She was wise and knew when to step back. But that night, the memory of Wylis walking out of the water kept flashing in her thoughts. That hung log of a thing between his legs. 

At least she could now understand why the likes of Lyanna, Ashara, and even Rhaella were head over heels for him. In a pure physical and lust-based relationship, she clearly saw the allure. Wylis was a lord, a self-made man, immensely powerful, battle-proven, truly handsome, tall, and his speech was gentle. She believed if Wylis was born to a Great House, he'd have been the talk of the realm. 

Not that he wasn't now. But the realm currently knew him for his battle prowess. Yet, she had seen Wylis prove himself in far greater ways. That carriage, the printing press, the soap, his planned maps of the castle and city he wanted to build. Lord Wylis was no brute, but rather the perfect mix of brute and brains.

Ummh… Elia hummed, hugging the pillow between her legs. I shouldn’t be having such thoughts. 

Sadly, she had far too many examples around her that nudged her to the darker side. Lyanna, being the official wife, yet willing to share. Rhaella, being the ex-queen, yet willing to kiss and sleep with the very man who killed the former king and prince. 

If she wanted to find a justification, she knew she could rather easily. 

"Why does he want so many ships?" 

She forced herself to think about other things. And there were indeed many things to think of. 

####

That same night, in a bedchamber, a candle was lit on the table. 

Brandon Stark sat by it, quill in hand, paper laid out before him. A frown marred his face, his brows creased. He rubbed his beard at times, and at others, wrote, only to discard that paper. 

"Gods! Why is this so fucking hard?" He cursed and started to write again. "I hope you are in good health, my Lady. Remember the time w—Ah! Fuck! Her man died, and I'm reminding her of the time I fucked her?"

Yet again, Brandon threw the paper away and started again. 

“Lady Barbary, I trust you’re well. I should have sent word sooner, but my thoughts have only just settled. The past years have been a storm, and I know you’ve weathered your share. If you ride toward Ramsgate, meet me there, or I’ll ride to you. I dwell with Lord Wylis these days, and I believe I’ve found my purpose. Better this than sitting old and dull in a cold hall. I’m no poet, so let’s speak over a cup of good ale. Lord Wylis brews a new drink, or so he claims. Perhaps you’ll judge it for yourself. Good health to you, my Lady.”

Finally, Brandon read it a few more times and nodded in satisfaction. 

"Just took me eight tries, not bad," he mumbled and folded it, and then sealed it with wax. "Eh, should write one to Ned as well."

####

Five carriages with new suspension were prepared for the journey. Fifty men had been recruited from the masses. Anyone interested in wielding a blade was given a chance after a short interview with the lord. 

Wylis' personal armor had arrived from King's Landing days ago, and it looked beautiful on him. Regal and imposing combined, his already imposing size was heightened even more with it. 

Food and wine were prepared for the road since they were going to march down into the Riverlands. The destination was Crossroads Inn, which rested somewhere between Riverrun and Maidenpool. 

Lyanna and Ashara volunteered to go with him to keep him company. But Wylis refused; their safety was his top priority. Rhaella couldn't join for good reasons, same for Wenda; both were pregnant. That left just one very desirable, curvy, and needy redhead. 

He settled on taking Ros with him. She was used to traveling, and she could genuinely help him put on armor, prepare him food, or… warm his bed. If it were Lyanna or Ashara, he'd have to bring more servants to care for them. 

And just like that, three days passed. Preparations were completed. 

The night before marching out, Wylis chose to spend his night with none other than his beloved wife. 

"Ummmh… Oh!"

They'd been at it for hours, yet still going strong. But they both knew it was time to sleep, so their passionate bedding turned into a slow massage. His fat cock, after battering her womb for hours and turning her tight slit swollen, was nestled hilt-deep, forming a faint bump as he gently moved his hips. 

"Gods! I love this feeling," Lyanna moaned, eyes watery, staring at her husband as his massive frame completely shrouded her, her pale legs thrown wide, folded up. He wasn't crushing her only because he braced himself with his elbows. Yet, it felt so good. 

"Which feeling?"

"This! You!" Lyanna moaned, her nails clawing at his sides greedily. She loved it as he was pretty much flat on top of her, his chest squishing her breasts, their bellies glued with sweat, his fat cock stretching her to insanity. "So warm, like the warmest quilt in the world."

"Hah! And I feel like I'm in the…" He pulled out a bit and thrust in hard, rocking the bed and her body underneath. "Tightest sheath in the world."

Lyanna giggled, so much in love. Her pussy was already a mess, and she was sore. The way he had her stretched open, legs pushed up, his knees spread wide, his weight pushing her down on the bed, she loved it, all of it. Although it stung a bit, it was her favorite experience.

"Mmmh…" She moaned and sprinkled kisses on his stubble, his cheeks, chin, forehead, and then his lips. She took her time tasting his lips with her pink tongue and deliberately contracted the walls of her core with a grin. "Can I keep this one?"

"Not like this, Lyanna," Wylis replied, looking her in the eye. He felt so in love with this woman. 

He drowned himself in her grey eyes, his elbows folded beside her ears, his cock driving in and out slowly, leisurely, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her salivating walls. His baby batter was coming close to erupting while she'd already finished hers. 

"Hm? You don't want more children with me?" She pouted playfully, teasing him with sways of her plush hips. 

"What? Lyanna, I'd have a thousand with you if I could."

She giggled, half-proud, half-falling in love even more with this brute of hers. She wasn’t even sure if her heart was pounding, squeezed between the smooth fluff of her breast and her own trembling knees. 

"Let's have another babe soon. But not tonight. I want to make it a special night that we can remember forever. So when we see our babe grown, we'll sit together and say, 'Remember the night we made that one?' Oh, I'll laugh and kiss you to that," he muttered, still plunging his cock deep into his beloved woman. Every inch of his sensitive flesh caressed by her soft lower lips, over and over.

Just imagining his words, Lyanna giggled sweetly and then kissed him passionately. "Oh, Wylis! I fucking love you."

"And I love you more," he replied, smothering the crook of her neck with his lips and tongue.

"Mmmhmmm… Then…" 

Pa!

She slapped his ass, her spread, slender fingers pulled him down on her even more. "Go on… Paint your she-wolf's inside."

Wylis’s brow quirked. He was a little surprised by the ass smack, but obliged with a happy thrill.

She felt it as he weighed down more on her, his cock shifting her insides with every thrust, yet she loved it. All of him. Wylis was the very first boy she'd fallen in love with. Even before he'd turned into this muscled hunk, she'd loved him. The chubby, soft, careful, cautious boy in the stables, who secretly trained the hardest. She loved him since then, she loved growing up with him, she loved the man he became, and now… she wanted to grow old with him, to wither with him in time. 

“Oohhh Wylis! I love you.. Oh–only you! Forever, I’m yours!” She hugged his head closer, letting him smother her body into the bed, damned be the pain. As long as he fucked her with all his heat, she didn’t care if her legs went numb.

She wanted to feel him, all the fullness he could offer, and gods.. It was utterly wonderful! The relentless stretch, the way his body forced her legs wider with each press, the way he took pleasure in breaking her limits. Like a flower that found her source of water and warmth, her body trembled and simmered in joy.  

Lyanna finally felt him burst inside her, the scorching heat spreading through every nook and cranny of her pussy. Her pleasure also peaked from the feeling, throwing her into cloud nine. She felt the gooey mess, so much of it, his mark left deep in her core. All the muscles in her body were knotting up in pure, utter ecstasy. 

Wylis kept fucking her into the bed, his cock diving into that divine embrace, squeezing and milking him greedily. Each thrust drilled in hilt-deep, kissing the gates of her womb with the tip of his flesh spear.

With every plunge, Lyanna felt the air escape her lungs. She felt the squelching noise simmer in her core, the warm bubbling mess in her cunt that he was battering. She could swear she saw stars behind her eyelids, bursting and swirling every time he struck home.

Plap! Squelch! Plap!

“Ohhh! Yes! Yes!” Lyanna cried out in bliss. She lost all sense of control, her body trembling uncontrollably. More and more of her nectar leaked out, their culmination frothing out her stretched petals and shoved back in by his relentless cock.

Slowly, the tightness in her body relaxed. Her climax ended in shallow pants of her breath. Her pussy dribbled all over the sheets, a thin gleam of sweat covered her soft skin, and her thin, pouting lips still moaned in whispers. 

Wylis stayed like that, letting her legs come down but still enveloping her body with his own. With his face by her ear, he panted into her hair, taking in her sultry scent. 

He breathed into her ear and whispered. "When I'm back, we'll lock ourselves here for a whole week and then… We'll make our second babe."

She giggled joyfully and felt Wylis shift up just a bit deeper. She looks at his face a little reluctantly, almost not wanting him to leave at all. But her lithe body couldn’t lie, she was completely and utterly satisfied, cunt drooling all over the sheets. 

"Can't wait. Don't you come back hurt, or I'll break your leg."

"Hah! Aye, my lady." 

With that, Wylis slid off her and fell by her side. Wasting not a second, Lyanna hugged him to snuggle. 

Aye, they had a big mess around their loins, but they were also too tired. 

####

Ramsgate docks, 

"What?!" 

Genna Lannister had finally arrived at Ramsgate after Cersei's wedding in King's Landing. She'd only brought her youngest son, Leonel, as she wanted to show him to the real father. But to her dismay, Lord Wylis had left Ramsgate just a day ago to deal with House Mooton. 

"You are welcome to reside in the guesthouse, my lady. The guards will protect it, and the servants will see to all your needs." 

Genna Lannister nodded. What else could she do? Although she expected to be taken to the castle. Still, Ashara Dayne had come out to greet her, so she didn't mind. And there was also that brutish-looking Brandon Stark, his gaze constantly at her supple, large breasts reserved only for one man. 

"I suppose there is nothing we can do. I'll rest in the guesthouse then. And wait Lord Wylis' return."

She knows! Genna felt it. The way Ashara Dayne was eying her and her son. It hid so much judgment and intent behind it. 

"For as long as you wish to, Lady Genna. Think of this as your home."

Hm? What does she… mean by that? 

Genna just smiled, proud of her big pearl white smile.

"Of course, Lady Ashara."

####

Clank!

Clink!

“Don’t throw your head at me, Chett! I could have easily ended you there.” Wylis sternly warned and got back in the fighting stance. “Now try again.”

Journey to Crossroads Inn wasn’t the fastest. While the new carriages made traveling faster, it was still not a significant upgrade. So, whenever they stopped for the night and made camp, Wylis taught a few select men he was confident about.

Chett was someone Wylis was personally training to become a famed knight someday. The man had the drive to do it and the desire to prove himself. Whatever Wylis threw at him, the man accepted and tried to learn or adapt. 

“That’s it. Hold your ground and keep the lead. Come at me with a proper flurry. A real fight will move faster than this, and every twitch will cost you.”

They were gathered in a small circle, like a dojo. Wylis taught Chett in the middle while the other men sat in a circle, watching. Out of the fifty soldiers, he was teaching five to become captains.

Clank!

“Good!”

“Ha!” Chett roared.

“Brilliant! Let the instincts guide you!” Wylis was still a beast of a human being. As Chett started to brutally strike, Wylis dodged or blocked with ease. Where Chett was panting and chaotic, Wylis was controlled and subtle. 

But eventually, Chett grew too tired. His attacks turned into more grunts and fewer strikes. 

“That’s enough,” he ordered and let another make take Chett’s place. “Swinging a blade is easy. Learning to swing it the right way is hard. It takes time and bone-wrecking training.”

The training continued deeper into the night. The location was relatively safe as they had already arrived near Crossroads Inn. Now, they were just waiting for Lord Hoster and Lord Mooton to arrive and begin their peace talks in Wylis’s presence. 

The journey from Ramsgate to Crossroads was so uneventful that it was boring. Other than training the men and spending time with Ros, even beyond the bed, he had nothing else to do. His mind was occupied by the thoughts of Ramsgate. He wanted to finish this mess quickly and return home. 

“That’s enough for tonight.”

At last, when the sky darkened, he ended the day’s training session. He was drenched in sweat already and a bit tired. So, he headed right back towards his tent, the largest one in the camp of ten tents. His was quite sizable and luxurious, an expense Brandon insisted on bearing. 

Now he knew why.

Knowing there was a tub of warm water waiting for him, he merrily strolled inside the tent and…

Oh?

Wylis beamed with a smile as soon as he walked inside his big tent, fitting for a lord. Money truly well spent. And right there, on the many-layered quilted bedding, was the gorgeous, curvaceous Ros. 

Ros lay there like a vision carved from sin, a lush invitation sprawled prone across the quilted bedding. Pale as fresh cream, curves spilling in all the right places. Her full, heavy breasts pressed into the fabric. That fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face made for wicked smiles, lips plump and parted. Hips wide, waist nipping in just enough to make a man’s hands itch to grip, and that ass... Gods, it was a masterpiece of temptation.

He looked and breathed in need, the air thick with her scent. Musk and rosewater mingling with the day's heat. 

Ros was all nude, prone on the bedding, feet closer to him than that fanned out red hair. Her squishy legs lay flat against the quilts, thighs thick and inviting, as she hoisted herself up on her elbows, back arching just enough to present that glorious rear like an offering to the Gods.

She looked back over her shoulder with a turn of her head, a big smirk curling those sinful lips, eyes sparkling with hunger. "Like what you see, my Lord?"

Wylis was already removing his tunic, fingers fumbling in haste, then yanking down his trousers to free the beast straining inside. "Can't be a man if I don't."

"Mm… Why wait then?" She teased in a sultry purr that sent heat straight to his throbbing cock.

Wylis looked down at himself, his shaft erect, jutting out proud and heavy, the effect she had on him undeniable. "Are you sure? I'm coated in sweat. Don't smell as good."

"Oh, that means we both can bathe in that tub afterward. You won't mind that, would you, my Lord?" Her words dripped like honey.

"No man would… Ros." Wylis was already crawling up onto the bed like a predator, his fat cock dangling thick and low between his thighs. As he prowled forward, he lowered his face and kissed the back of her creamy, soft thighs, so warm and yielding under his lips, tasting the faint salt of her skin. He kept kissing upwards, slow and intentional, mapping every inch of that pale terrain.

“Ummmm…” Ros moaned, her heavy breasts heaving with each breath, nipples dragging against the quilts as her body arched.

He kissed higher, finally pecking the fluffy swells of her ass; round as a ripe peach, so fucking soft they dimpled under his mouth like fresh dough. He kneaded them with rough hands, claws digging in just enough to leave faint marks, then spread them wide, exposing her glistening core. Simply mouth-watering.

Nestling his face down between those glorious cheeks, he licked her soaked pink petals with a long, filthy drag of his tongue, savoring the flood of her arousal.

Ros moaned, her body trembling, thighs quivering against his cheeks. “Oh~ Who taught you that, my Lord?”

Wylis chuckled low against her slick folds, not even pausing to reply. He licked a few more times, tracing her with the tip of his tongue until her pussy clenched in greed. His tongue slithered over her sensitive nub over and over, his hands feeling her body reacting in twitches. The thought of surprising a veteran whore excited him, impressing himself with a lewd thrill.

“Oh my lord! Please… More! Yes!” Ros couldn’t control it. Never before had she felt this way from a man’s mouth, let alone a lord. The filthiness of it all excited her.

Wylis finally stopped when he felt his cock urging him, throbbing and flexing for its chance. He finally came up for air, lips shiny with her essence. He kept climbing, his knees parting over her soft thighs wider, keeping them in helpless surrender as he claimed more space.

He dotted kisses along her back, the skin like silk under his mouth, drawing breathy giggles from her. Then he moved aside her red hair with gentle fingers and kissed her neck, down under her jawline in a trail of wet heat, and right then his cock fell flat between her thighs, throbbing hot against her dripping pussy, the swollen head nudging her folds apart.

"Mmmh… Let's… be fast, my lord," Ros moaned, pushing back against him with needy rolls of her hips. "The water won't stay warm forever."

"Aye, just my thought," he muttered between kisses on her doughy soft skin, nipping at the curve, his breath hot and ragged.

Ros herself raised her ass high, lewd and eager, shoving her own arm underneath her belly, between her legs, to grasp his throbbing flesh sword. Her fingers wrapped around the middle, aiming his cock at her entrance with a shaky grip. "Mmmmmmh… Just as… big as… our first time.”

Wylis started pushing slowly, the fat crown opening her up with a moist, obscene stretch. He kissed her neck the entire time, teeth grazing her pulse. 

Ros had a different kind of exoticness; sultry, gorgeous, her body ripe, hips wide, breasts heavy and swaying, willing to bear him babes with that fertile swell. But they were waiting for Wenda to deliver first, then he could fill her up to the brim. The thought only stoked his fire as he inched deeper.

"Oooooh! You are soo… oh-much! … I want it all, m'lord!" She cried out as her lower lips were stretched wide to the limit, velvet walls gripping like a fist around his invading girth. The burn of it sent jolts of pleasure-pain through her core that made her toes curl and her back bow.

Wylis chuckled a breath and shoved the rest of his cock, entirely, hilt deep with a single, brutal thrust that buried him to the root. 

They'd fucked many times, so she was used to his size by now. Her body remembered the shape of him like a well-worn glove, but that didn't mean she was used to that stretch. The way he ripped her open like a virgin all over again, his throbbing girth splitting her soaked walls apart until the blunt tip kissed her cervix with a deep, insistent press, and then some. 

"It's burning in my… belly!" Ros cried out, gulping down air like a drowning woman. 

Yet, her body loved it far too much; her hips bucked back instinctively for more. She fell fully flat against the bedding, no longer using her elbows to prop herself up, surrendering completely as her body melted under the overwhelming force, cheeks pressed into the quilts.

Wylis slid one thick biceps under her neck, his muscle flexing like iron as he pulled her face up, sideways toward him. There, he kissed her like a wild beast, his tongue devouring her mouth greedily. His cock invaded all the depth she had to offer, plowing her core with slow rolls that made her inner muscles flutter around him.

Plap! Plap!

Her cushiony ass was so soft that he bounced off it with each downward drive, denting in like pillows under his hips. Oh, how he loved grinding down with hard plunges, the friction exquisite as her tight, molten pussy gripped him. 

Slick and clenching in rhythmic pulses that milked every vein along his shaft. Her involuntary squeezes made it so much more intense, like her pussy was alive and hungry, drawing him deeper with greedy tugs.

There was no need to hold back. It was meant to be quick, but he loved every fucking second of it. The way her body yielded and fought all at once, her moans vibrating against his skin as he claimed her without mercy.

Wylis smothered her lips with his own, sealing in her cries and stopping her from being too loud, his tongue invading her mouth in time with his thrusts. He started to mindlessly fuck her down into the bedding, hips pistoning like a machine, driving her deeper into the quilts with each savage slam.

Plap! Squelch! Plap! 

The squirting sounds echoed wet and obscene, like her pussy was gasping for breath around his invading cock.

Her ass jiggled with every impact. The pale cheeks turned flushed red, blooming like slapped fruit under his pounding, the sight alone making his balls tighten with need.

Wylis’s other arm slid under one breast, fingers splaying wide to capture the heavy globe. His palms greedily kneaded and molded her swell like dough.

Ros couldn't hold it any longer. Her toes curled tight, feet stretching straight, thighs writhing in helpless spasms as she erupted in a river of slick heat. Her cunt flooded around his cock in violent contractions. All the while, she felt Wylis fucking her love tunnel loose, stretching her wider with each thrust, turning her into a mindless puddle. 

“Oohh~ Gods!” she moaned, raw and broken, tongue lolling out that the big lord kissed and sucked into his mouth like candy.

"Ugh… Time for the bath-uh!" 

Wylis rammed in balls deep with one, hard plunge. 

Pleasure burst through every vein in his body, his cock erupting in a messy torrent of heat. Sloppy ropes of sticky cream blasted like a geyser into her depths, viscous and scalding, filling her until it overflowed down her thighs. His balls churned out load after load, so much that it sloshed audibly with his final twitches, painting her insides in his molten wax.

"Can't wait… to bear the fruit of this… warmth soon," Ros mumbled, blushing. It had been so long since she quit her old profession that to her, Wylis was the only man. 

Wylis kissed her neck and moved off of her, pulling back. He looked and gods, it was so beautiful. He was tempted to try her other entry, but postponed it. For now, he relished the sight of her red, puffy pussy glazed with his white cream. 

"Soon, Ros. Very soon. Now, let's get ourselves cleaned."

He helped the sore woman to her feet. Both of them wiped themselves first with a wet cloth and then settled down inside the large wooden tub. Since it was made for Wylis, it was naturally large. Hence, enough space for Ros to sit down in front of him, lean her back into his chest, and his hands to explore.

Ugh… I'm turning into a horndog.

####

King’s Landing, Red Keep

“Wylis will see to it. Even if matters take a dark turn, he has the skill to see it through.” Jon Arryn declared in the Small Council, trying to end the matter. 

“Indeed, my lord. Lord Wylis is most capable. Even my little birds grow quiet in his presence,” Varys said with his usual silken charm. “Yet he may find Lord Hoster a challenge, for that one’s patience has run quite dry.”

“Lord Mooton has brought this upon himself. He acts as though the Targaryens still sit on the Iron Throne. He defies the Crown and withholds the taxes owed. Lord Hoster did only what was asked of him. The attack on Ser Brynden was both craven and without cause.”

“Eh…” Grand Maester Pycelle shifted in his seat. “My lord, to bring ruin upon a house of such age and standing… it is no small thing.”

“For an old house to endure, its lord must know when to yield with wisdom. Lord Wylis has a steady hand for such matters. I trust he will see it done well. The final choice is his, by His Grace’s will.”

As soon as Lord Arryn brought in the King’s decision, any doubts and hesitations vanished. Nobody wanted to challenge the King. Especially now, as he seemed rather short-tempered for some reason. 

“Enough of that. His Grace has promised to send willing hands seeking work to Ramsgate. Have the City Watch draw up a list of the idle within the city. Any without a stain upon their name are to be given the offer. With Lord Wylis held in such regard, I doubt many will refuse."

“Or they all might refuse,” Lord Varys said. “He is… feared.”

“Not by smallfolk,” Jon added. 

That seemingly silenced everyone in the Small Council. Indeed, Wylis was loved by the common and feared by the nobles. 

After all, the giant from the North had slain the most nobles in recent history. All singlehandedly. 

####

Crossroads Inn, 

An entire floor of the Inn was leased out for the day. Wylis, with Chett and five more men, sat there since morning. He was in his full armor, just without his helmet, looking more imposing than ever in the rebellion days.

“M’lord, what made House Mooton act so? Can’t see sense in it, not when they’ve no backer to speak of,” Chett asked. He was allowed to ask any question as it was a part of his training. 

“That’s why we’re here, Chett. We northerners speak plain and mean what we say. Down South, they twist words and play their little games, especially the highborn. Throw coin in the mix, and they turn sly as foxes. Lord Mooton refused to pay taxes for some foolish reason, and now we’re here.”

Chett frowned, trying to make sense of the whole thing. It wasn’t easy for the tall man after living his initial life as a nobody smallfolk. His life was all about finding work and feeding himself and his family. He’d never bothered to think about greater conflicts, greed, and politics.

“Eh… Is House Mooton poor, my lord?”

“I’d not say so. They’ve a long history, a port worth guarding, and ships that still earn their keep. A well-fed, coin-heavy lot, if you ask me. Ah, and there they are.”

Right then, some armored men came upstairs, their house sigil painted on their chestplate, a red salmon. There were ten of them, then finally an old, white haired man appeared, wearing simple leather armor, a cloak on his shoulders, his expression stern, beard outgrown, dark circles baggy under his eyes. 

“Lord Mooton?” Wylis stood up to greet him. 

“Lord Kaiser.” 

For a moment, Wylis measured the old nobleman. Then his gaze fell on the timid, tall boy beside him, likely the son. The boy didn’t even meet his gaze, scared as if he’d eat him. 

“This is my son, heir to Maidenpool, William Mooton.” 

Wylis nodded towards the boy and knew already that the house was doomed. Such timidness wasn’t suited to run a noble house. How a stern-looking father allowed the boy to be raised such a way was beyond him. 

“It’s good to meet you both. Sit, if you please. The maid will bring drink and bread soon enough while we wait for Lord Tully.” Wylis nodded toward the table and took his seat at the shorter end, leaving the long sides open for the guests. “Tell me, Lord Mooton, what trade keeps your house busy these days? I myself am quite interested in the seaborn trade.”

Wylis knew enough how to get people like Lord Mooton to speak. Being a noble, the man obviously wanted to boast and act all mighty. Especially before a new lord like Wylis. 

“A bit of everything, my lord,” Lord Mooton said with quiet pride. “Our ships often serve as the link between Braavos and Westeros. Though the years since the Conquest have not been easy, my house has endured and prospered.”

I wonder how much longer that’ll be the case.

“I’ve heard the tales. They say Queen Alysanne nearly lost her life at your Jonquil’s Pool,” Wylis said, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Lord Mooton frowned. But just before he could speak, the footsteps came from the stairs. The maid appeared, bringing a tray of refreshments. But right behind were a few armed men with the Tully sigil. 

Wylis waited for a moment, but no Hoster appeared. It was just the four men. They approached the table right away, showing a folded parchment.

“Lord Kaiser, we bring you Lord Hoster Tully’s word.”

With a sigh, Wylis grabbed the paper and read it silently. Only after fully reading it did he frown. “Lord Hoster won’t come to speak. Says his brother’s taken with fever, and if Ser Brynden dies… well, you know what that would mean.”

“What we did was just!” Lord Mooton rose with fury. “If Hoster refuses, there is nothing we can do. I’ll take this matter to King’s Landing.”

Wylis shook his head. “You will do no such thing. The Crown left the choice to me. Sit down and speak plain. Why do you refuse the taxes?”

"I wouldn’t call it refusal, Lord Wylis. I have already rendered what was owed. I mean no slight to His Grace or to Lord Tully. It has been less than a year since King Robert’s reign began. My dues were paid to the Crown, the one before now. What you ask now is not due, but more besides."

Wylis nearly nodded. It really was a valid point. If the man had already paid his yearly taxes to the Crown, it wasn’t his concern who sat on the throne now. But of course, Wylis had no way to confirm it. And since the Crown was going this far, it meant they had no record of the paid taxes either. 

“And Ser Brynden? What reason had you to cut him?”

“He mocked my son. He mocked my house. He mocked my allegian—”

“What reason had you to cut him?” Wylis repeated the same question. 

The air tensed at the table. Lord Mooton glared while standing. “You would forgive someone mocking your house and your son?”

Creak!

Wylis stood up, larger than any man there, taller too, and in his armor, he was a god of war. "I'd not let it come to that. The mockery you face is of your own making. I care nothing for your affairs. The Crown asks this matter be settled, and so it will be. I’ve duties in the North and no time to waste on a Mad King’s cocksucker.” 

Rare, but Wylis did deploy a strategic mockery to rile up the man. Lord Mooton was clearly an impulsive, proud man. Dealing with the likes of him was the easiest. All Wylis needed was a justification to become violent. 

And since he wanted to take Maidenpool’s ships, there was no need to be kind and defuse the situation. 

“What did you say?!” Lord Mooton boomed.

Wylis shrugged. “Mad King’s cocksucker. A man who sucked the Mad King’s cock. I can put it plainer if your wits are dull.”

“You called me here to mock me?!”

"Why? You wanted a kiss instead? You and I were foes not long past. I slew your other son, didn’t I? Myles, was it? Aye, Rhaegar’s squire, at the Battle of the Bells. The boy came at me with Connington and four men. Don’t make the same mistake, Lord Mooton. Your house survived many tribulations, aye, but do fear this one.”

Lord Mooton turned red. “You expect me to take this lying? Boy, you’ve been a lord for months! You were shoveling horseshit longer. You know nothing.”

“Still did more than you ever managed in all your years. You bent the knee to a mad, inbred king instead of standing with us when the realm called for it. Even your own Lord Paramount rose, but you hid behind his back. Now you had the chance to make it right, to earn a shred of respect again. Yet you chose this.” Wylis stepped closer to the table. “You’ll ride with me to Riverrun. You’ll kneel, face in the dirt, and beg if that’s what it takes.”

“I will do no such thing.” Lord Mooton scoffed. 

“I wasn’t asking.”

Scrrrr!

All ten men behind Lord Mooton unsheathed their blades. The four Tully men who had arrived did the same. As did Chett and five more of Wylis’ men. 

“Chett, stand and watch. A blade’s length does not decide the victor. It’s the mastery,” Wylis warned, grabbing a fork he was using to eat. “Each move you make only buries you deeper, Lord Mooton. You can still ride with me to Riverrun and keep your pride.”

“On my dead body!”

Bam!

Wylis kicked the table with explosive strength, throwing it away to create space. The closest men to him were Lord Mooton and his son, William. But instead of focusing on them, Wylis bolted past them towards the sword-wielding men. 

“Should’ve worn helmets.” 

As those words fell, Wylis pounced forward. It wasn’t an open space, so it was pointless to try and swing long swords. Wylis himself was covered in plated armor, except for his head. But it was they who needed to be worried. 

“Gah!”

Wylis ducked an incoming swing of the blade, letting it strike one of their own. He countered the attack with an uppercut, the pointy ends of his fork protruding out from between his fingers. He struck the windpipe, puncturing it. 

As the first man fell, Wylis moved fast despite his massive body. A few swords struck him, but they only connected with his armor. 

From then on, it turned into a complete brawl. As soon as the Mooton’s men realized swords were useless, they threw them away and took out their daggers. 

However, Wylis was even better in hand-to-hand combat. He allowed himself to move around the tavern hall until he had his back against the wall, allowing him to narrow the attack range for better focus. 

“Gah!” 

“How?!”

One of the Mooton’s men screamed when Wylis killed another with a spoon-jap in the eyesocket. 

“A fucking spoon?!” 

Wylis was moving through instincts. Bedding Lyanna and Ashara often had increased his strength. His jabs pierced them due to his fork, but his punches alone broke jaws. 

“Ugh!”

His primary focus was on throats and faces since the rest of their bodies were covered in some level of armor. 

Clank!

Wylis blocked a dagger with his arm-guard and eased into the same man, ducked, threw an arm down between the legs, and lifted the man clean off the ground, only to throw him at Lord Mooton and his son, William. 

Chaotic, messy, Wylis went through them one by one. Eyes blinded, throats punctured by a fork. And some died because Wylis used them as a shield against their own brethren’s attacks. His footwork defied his size. 

Thud!

Wylis kicked one, crushing their chest, knocking the lungs out. 

Another shoulder smacked, crushing the man against the wall. 

Ten got reduced to three, and then just one. The only wound Wylis received was a small cut on the edge of his ear. A dagger had scraped him. 

“Haa!” Wylis lifted the last frightened man, and instead of throwing him around, he threw him upwards. So hard that the poor bloke broke the ceiling, filling the place with dust, before finally slamming back down on the floor. 

“...”

“That’s how it’s done.” Wylis threw away the fork and clapped his hands clean. 

“...”

Chett and other Ramsgate men stood there frozen. 

The four Tully men didn’t even get to swing their blades. 

Lord Mooton and his son were still lying on the floor by the man Wylis had thrown at them earlier.

Ting!

[Hidden Quest Completed - Master of Negotiation
Description - A Tyrant never tolerates disrespect when making a deal.
Goal - Dominate the negotiations with Lord Mooton.
Reward - Greater Fame, New Title]

Ting!

[New Title Acquired - Spoonman of the Crossroads
Description - You have killed enough men with spoons to gain widespread fame for it.
Effect - 50% Discount at Crossroads Inn for all food and drinks.]

Hah! 

Wylis chuckled at the useless reward and insignificant title. But it was better than nothing. 

“Chett, tie the father and son. We’re going to Riverrun.”

As the men moved to work quickly, Wylis leaned against a wall and watched. He tried to see any deceit or hidden plots on Lord Mooton’s face, but there weren’t any. The man seemed to have genuinely come to the inn to negotiate, albeit with too much pride.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. 

This is too easy for a Main Quest.

____________

[A/N: Any suggestions on what Wylis will find in the Targaryen treasure chest hidden in Maidenpool? By the lore, it could belong to either Aegon the Conqueror, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, or Daemon Targaryen.]