chapter 200 part 2
Glyn, who had been sound asleep, suddenly opened his eyes. A cold light glinted within them. The same dream again!
Glyn sat up on the edge of the bed and said, "Someone, come."
Following Glyn's voice, the wooden door to the chambers was quickly pushed open. A fully armored Ma Gang Beck and others strode in.
As Glyn's gaze swept over them, the men all straightened their backs.
"If you find any suspicious persons and they resist, kill them on sight."
To let the simple folk of his crabbe fiefdom sleep soundly at night, Lord Glyn had instituted a curfew not long after inheriting the lordship of crabbe, and it had never been lifted. Therefore, at this hour around The Whispers, anyone other than the patrolling and posted soldiers could be classified as a suspicious person.
Ma Gang Beck and the others said in unison, "Yes, Lord Glyn!"
After the men left the room, Glyn got out of bed, opened the narrow window of his chambers, and the night wind immediately rushed in.
Outside the window, a full moon hung high. Glyn stared at the hazy night sky, his mind replaying the scene from his dream.
It had been three times now… Glyn could only be certain that it was Daenerys's voice; the rest of the scene was still blurry.
Could it be Melisandre's magic? The second time he had the dream, Glyn had first suspected her—that Red Priestess he had encountered at Dragonstone.
The diligent Glyn would act on his suspicions, and besides, he greatly disliked magic, because… he couldn't use it.
crabbe's soldiers waited at their designated positions everywhere for the signal fires from The Whispers.
Whether it was shadow magic or illusion magic, Glyn knew that the practitioners of such arts in this world had certain range limitations (the Three-Eyed Raven being an exception).
Tonight, Glyn had ordered his household Knight, Ma Gang, to make preparations in secret. On his command, the soldiers of crabbe would move out and conduct a grid search.
If it wasn't man-made magic, then what could it be? Glyn pondered as he strode over to stand before a table covered with a map of Westeros.
Glyn actually suspected that the possibility of Melisandre being the caster was very low, but his cautious nature prevented him from relying solely on his own judgment. He would investigate meticulously, eliminating suspects one by one until he found the final answer.
Still, the question remained: if it wasn't man-made magic, what could it be? Why would he dream the same dream for three consecutive days?
Unable to find an answer for the moment, Glyn's thoughts drifted to other matters… The greatsword Ice was too large to carry around conveniently. He still needed a Valyrian Steel longsword… The Smith in King's Landing, Tobho Mott, knew how to reforge Valyrian Steel weapons… Glyn's finger tapped the location of Claw Isle on the map.
…
As the sky began to lighten, Knight Ma came to see Glyn.
"My lord, aside from a dozen poachers and smugglers, we found nothing else unusual."
Glyn pondered for a moment, then nodded slightly and said, "You've worked hard, my loyal Ma Gang."
Ma Gang hesitated for a moment before asking, "My lord, how should we deal with these people?"
"Deal with them according to the laws of the land."
After speaking, Glyn waved his hand.
After Ma Gang left, Glyn leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes… Could it be the call of a Targaryen Dragon, or perhaps some prophecy? Or perhaps…
…
Flames raged everywhere. Daenerys's silver hair and body were covered in black soot, her violet eyes filled with terror and helplessness.
She painstakingly reached a hand out in Glyn's direction, her lips opening and closing repeatedly. What on earth was she saying?!
Finally, he heard it: "Glyn… save me…"
…
Glyn's eyes snapped open. By now, the sky was bright, and brilliant morning light streamed into the room through the narrow window.
…
The next day, the ship Glyn was on, *The Mermaid*, accompanied by five crabbe warships, slowly departed from Mermaid Port.
…
…
Essos, Viserys's Domain.
Inside a certain room, Jon Snow, Young Griff, and Rory sat around drinking. Empty wine bottles were scattered all around them.
The tipsy Rory slurred his words slightly, "When I was sixteen, on my name day, my father, the smith… My father was quite famous for the weapons he forged. He made a longsword for me, but some old Noble not only snatched the sword my father gave me, he even insulted me… said my hands were born to swing a hammer, not to hold a sword. I couldn't hold back my anger at the time. I went home, got a hammer, and broke both of that old Noble's arms and half his ribs."
Rory picked up his cup and took a big gulp, then continued, "To escape the old Noble's pursuit, I fled my homeland overnight, crossed the Narrow Sea, and came here to be a sellsword."
Finally, he added, "A sellsword who holds a sword."
Jon had drunk quite a bit. Rory was swaying before his eyes, making him a little dizzy. He knew it was his own fault; he had drunk too much.
Jon leaned against the wall, a happy smile on his face. "Rory, you're very brave. You're a warrior."
Rory laughed for a while, then suddenly said, "Young Griff, what about your story?"
Jon, with hazy eyes, looked at the flushed Young Griff. In the dim light, his pupils seemed to have turned purple. Jon thought it was a trick of the light.
Young Griff smiled and said, "My father also fled from the continent across the sea to Essos. I grew up over here. My father never liked to talk to me about his youth."
After a pause, he pretended to lower his voice and continued, "One time, my father drank too much, and only then did I learn that he had offended a House named Lannister on the other continent. I heard that House is very powerful, so he had no choice but to flee."
Rory said, "I know them. A Lannister always pays his debts!"
Jon said angrily, "Lannister again, damn them all!"
Hearing this, Young Griff and Rory both turned to look at the rarely angry Jon.
Rory asked curiously, "Jon, it seems you have quite a grudge against the Lannisters?"
After a moment of silence, Jon slowly nodded and said, "My family was almost harmed by the Lannisters. I don't like them."
"Your family?"
Jon fell silent again. After a while, he finally spoke, "I misspoke. I'm a Bastard. How could a Bastard have a family?"
Rory's large hand clapped Jon's shoulder. "This isn't that damned Sunset Lands. You shouldn't always think about that stuff. Once you become a sellsword, who cares about that? With your skills, you'll win everyone's respect sooner or later."
Although Young Griff had also drunk a lot, his voice was still gentle. "It's not a choice we made for ourselves. If we could choose, I don't think anyone would want to come into this world as a Bastard."
Rory nodded heavily. "Right, Young Griff is right. You should blame others, not yourself."
Jon's eyes were a bit vacant. He smiled brightly. "I understand now."
(end of chapter)
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