For the next week, Arthur and Mira walked the winding roads towards the capital, their days blending into a rhythm of walking and resting. Each night they camped in secluded spots—under the shelter of overhanging rocks or in thickets of brambles that hid them from prying eyes. At first they were still scared, as if expecting Garlan or the Tanners to burst from the trees at any moment. They spoke of it in wuiet tones around their small fires, Arthur reassuring her that they wouldn't find them. But as the days stretched on, the fear began to fade, replaced by a tentative sense of freedom that neither of them had known before. The Tanners never appeared, nor did Garlan's voice echo through the woods.
Arthur's quick healing surprised Mira during their nightly rituals; she would kneel beside him in the firelight, unwrapping the strips from her dress to check his wounds as she cleaned and rebound them. "These are closing faster than they should," she said one evening, her touch lingering on a gash across his ribs that had already scabbed over. "It's strange."
Arthur shrugged it off with a faint smile. "Maybe the gods are finally on our side." In truth, he knew it was the Recovery sub-skill working its magic, but he kept that to himself, not wanting to burden her with more strangeness.
She slept close to him each night, her body curled against his for warmth, her head on his shoulder or her arm draped over his chest. The contact started innocently enough, a necessity against the chill, but it grew into something more comforting, more intimate. By the third night, she began kissing him—soft presses of her lips to his lips or jaw as they settled down, her breath warm against his skin. On the fourth night, after a day of easy walking, Mira turned to him as the fire died to embers. She shifted closer, her hand resting on his chest. "Arthur," she said. "I want to be with you. Fully. Let me lose my maidenhead to you tonight."
Arthur felt his pulse quicken, his hand covering hers. "Mira, I want that too. More than you know. But not here, not on the cold ground. You deserve better, silk sheets, a real bed, somewhere nice."
She pouted, her fingers tracing circles on his tunic. "I don't care about that. I just want you. We've waited long enough."
He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "And we will. Soon. I promise. When we're settled, when we have a place of our own."
Mira sighed but relented, nestling against him. "You're too noble for your own good," she murmured, though her smile betrayed her affection.
The days continued like that, the fear ebbing as they passed more travelers on the roads. They greeted each group politely, Arthur nodding with a simple "Good day," and Mira offering a warm smile that often drew lingering looks. "Fine weather for the road," one merchant said to them on the fifth day, his cart creaking under sacks of grain. "Heading to the city?"
"Aye," Arthur replied.
The man chuckled. "King's Landing? Mind the cutpurses. Safe travels."
No one pressed for details, and no one seemed to recognize them. By the sixth day, the encounters felt normal, even welcome. Mira started to laugh again, pointing out a deer grazing in a field or teasing Arthur about various things that reminded her of their childhood. She swatted his shoulder, laughing freely, the first real spark of joy since their escape. Arthur felt it too; the weight lifting, the constant glance over his shoulder fading. They were starting to forget about their father, about the Tanners and Garlan, the nightmare of Harrowfield receding like a bad dream.
They reached King's Landing by the eighth day, the road widening as the forest gave way to rolling hills dotted with farms and inns. The city's outline appeared on the horizon, the Great Sept of Baelor gleaming white against the sky, the Red Keep perched on Aegon's High Hill. Mira straightened in her new dress her eyes widening as they crested the final rise. "It's... huge," she breathed, taking in the sprawl of buildings, the walls encircling it all.
Arthur nodded, a mix of awe and wariness settling over him. "Bigger than I imagined. We'll definitely blend in here." But the wind shifted then, carrying the stench of a foul wave of rot, sewage, and smoke that hit them like a punch to their face. Fish guts from the river markets, unwashed bodies in the alleys, the smell of shit all mingled into something thick and nauseating.
Mira gagged, covering her nose with her sleeve. "Gods, what is that smell? It's like a thousand chamber pots emptied at once!"
Arthur wrinkled his face, the odor clinging to his throat. "Worse than the pig pen after a storm. How do people live with it?"
A trader's carriage rumbled past them on the road, pulled by a pair of mules, crates stacked high under a canvas tarp. The driver, a stout man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a wide-brimmed hat, laughed heartily at their reactions. "That there's the good old smell we are all used to! Welcome to King's Landing, the city that never stops shitting itself."
Arthur forced a grin through the stench, wiping his eyes. "Based on your Face I'd guess we won't get used to it."
The trader slapped his knee, his laugh booming. "Ha! Sharp tongue on you, lad. Name's Willem, Willem of the Rosby Caravans, though born in Flea Bottom myself. You two look fresh off the farm. First time?"
"Aye," Arthur said, falling into step beside the carriage as it slowed. "I'm Arthur, this is my wife Mira."
Willem's eyes flicked to Mira, lingering a moment on her curves his gaze appreciative but quick, before returning to Arthur with a nod. "Wife, eh? Lucky man. What brings you to the capital? Glory? Gold?"
"A new start," Arthur replied simply. "Away from the farm life."
Willem chuckled again, shaking his head as he flicked the reins to urge the mules forward. "King's Landing ain't the place for new starts without coin in your purse, friends. Climb on if you like, I'll give you a ride to the gate. Save your feet for the streets inside."
Arthur and Mira exchanged a glance, then accepted, climbing onto the bench beside Willem. The carriage creaked as it rolled on, the mules plodding steadily.
"So, why's it not the place?" Arthur asked, settling in, the jostle sending a twinge through his ribs.
Willem leaned back, his hands loose on the reins. "Tight as a nobles arse, that's why. Streets packed wall to wall, nobles in their towers scheming for as much power as they can, smallfolk crammed in the alleys fighting for scraps. Crime's everywhere. Pickpockets'll have your coin before you blink, and the gold cloaks? Half of 'em are worse than the thieves."
Mira leaned forward, her curiosity overriding the lingering stench. "Why would anyone live in such a place? It sounds like a nightmare."
Willem grinned, his teeth flashing white. "Because this is where the power of the realm sits, lass. Iron Throne's here, the Hand, the Small Council, all the strings that pull the Seven Kingdoms. It's where a man can rise higher than his station if he's clever enough. Or lucky. Dangerous as a viper pit, but the best opportunities hide behind thge fangs."
Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Like Ser Duncan the Tall? I heard the tales, that he started as a squire for a hedge knight and ended up Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
Willem slapped the reins lightly. "Aye, exactly! Dunk the Lunkhead, they called him back in the day. Fought in tourneys, saved the king from assassins, rose from nothing to legend. King's Landing chews up most, but for a few, it's the ladder to the stars."
Arthur absorbed that, his mind turning to his own plans. "What should a newcomer know, then? Places to avoid, where to live if you're starting with nothing?"
Willem rubbed his chin. "Avoid Flea Bottom if you can, it's just south of the Hill of Rhaenys, stinks worse than the Blackwater on a bad tide. Full of beggars, thieves, and disease. Stay clear of the Street of Silk too unless you're flush; the whores there'll bleed you dry faster than a leech I've had my coin drained on more than one occasion, though that wasn't the only thing that was drained do you know what I mean," eh said with a chuckle. "For living, if you've no coin for the inns like the Quill and Tankard, try the hovels near the Mud Gate. Cheap, but watch your back. Food's best from the markets, fish from the river, bread from the bakeries on the Street of Flour. And don't flash silver; there are eyes everywhere and people will jump you."
Mira listened intently, her hand resting on Arthur's knee. "And work? For someone like us?"
"Plenty if you're willing," Willem said. "Docks need hands for unloading, hard work, but pays a penny a day. Tourneys bring servants and stableboys if you've a knack for horses. Or the taverns, a serving wench like you could make tips, though mind the drunks." He winked at Mira.
As they approached the gate, the walls loomed taller, guards in gold cloaks eyeing the traffic. Mira and Arthur shifted to dismount, but Willem waved them back. "Stay on my friends, I'll get you through. Least I can do for fresh faces."
He pulled the carriage to the front of the line, leaning out to the guards. "Willem with the Braavosi wines, three of us today."
The guard glanced at them, then at Willem's crates. "Entrance fee's a penny a head."
Willem fished three copper pennies from his pouch and tossed them over. "There you go. Safe watch."
The guard waved them through without another word. Inside the walls, the noise hit like a wave; shouts of vendors, the creak of carts, the low of oxen. Arthur and Mira climbed down as the carriage slowed, the trader tipping his hat. Arthur extended his hand. "Thanks for the ride. Anything I can do in return?"
Willem thought for a moment, eyeing the crates. "Later today, I'm hauling a dozen casks of wine to the Red Keep. Could use a strong back. A copper star for the pair of you, if you're able."
Arthur glanced at Mira, who nodded. "I'm in."
"Meet me here an hour before sunset," Willem said. "Gives you time to find an inn or settle in."
Arthur thanked him again, and Willem rolled off into the crowd. Arthur and Mira stood for a moment, watching the carriage disappear amid the throng. Mira smiled, linking her arm through his. "He was nice. I'm glad we met him."
Arthur nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. "Aye. First friendly face we've had in days. Come on, let's see what this city's made of."
Arthur and Mira stepped through the Lion Gate into King's Landing, the massive walls of red stone closing behind them like the jaws of some beast. The city assaulted their senses immediately. Mira's eyes widened, her hand tightening on Arthur's arm as she took it all in. The streets teemed with life; merchants hawking spices from Essos, fishmongers gutting their catch on wooden slabs, children darting between legs with baskets of bread.
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[New Quest Received]
A ROOF OF OUR OWN
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Description:
King's Landing is no place to sleep in alleys. Buy a home and plant your flag.
Objective:
– Purchase a modest house inside the city walls (deed or year-lease)
Bonus Objectives:
– Negotiate the price down by at least 15%
– Avoid paying any bribes or "gate fees"
– Furnish the home with bed, table, and lockable chest within 48 hours
Rewards:
– +1 Perception
– Otherworld Token
– [Skill] Haggling (0/100) (Novice)
– Rest Bonus: Safehouse (recover faster while resting at home)
– +150 XP
Failure:
– Homeless and vulnerable to theft and sickness
________________________________
"Okay then... I guess that's something to aim for," he muttered to himself before he was interrupted by Mira.
"Look at that!" Mira exclaimed, pointing to a stall piled high with bolts of dyed cloth, crimson reds, deep indigos, golds that shimmered like the sun on water. "I've never seen colors like those. And over there! The fruits! Are those from Dorne?"
Arthur followed her gaze, his own amazement settling in like a quiet wonder. The city was nothing like the stories whispered back in Harrowfield. It sprawled endlessly, buildings leaning into each other. "It's mad," he said with awe. "All these people, all this... everything. We made it, Mira. We're really here."
She squeezed his arm, her excitement bubbling over as she pulled him toward a cluster of food stalls. The air was thick with scents, roasted chestnuts, spiced meats sizzling on spits, fresh-baked pies cooling on racks. Mira stopped at a cart where a woman with sun-browned skin ladled stew into wooden bowls. "What's that smell?" she asked, inhaling deeply. "It makes my mouth water."
"Spiced lamb from the Summer Isles," the woman replied with a gap-toothed grin. "A penny a bowl. Best in the city."
Mira glanced at Arthur, her eyes pleading. He fished a copper penny from his pouch and handed it over. The woman passed them a steaming bowl each, and Mira took a tentative sip, her face lighting up. "Oh, Arthur, it's wonderful! Hot and sweet and... everything."
He tried it, the flavors bursting on his tongue. "Better than Mother's stew," he admitted with a chuckle, though the words carried a pang he pushed down. They ate as they walked, Mira chattering about the wonders around them. A juggler tossing flaming torches near the Street of Sisters, a bard strumming a lute and singing of dragonlord. Arthur soaked it in too, the city thrilling him despite the undercurrent of danger.
They wove through the crowds, Mira's excitement infectious as she tugged him from stall to stall. At a jeweler's cart, she paused to admire a string of glass beads dyed. "Imagine wearing something like that," she said dreamily. "Just because you could."
"Someday," Arthur promised, his hand on her lower back. "You'll be able to wear all that and more."
'But that's only if I can squire and become a Knight myself...' he thought. He could do it he knew he could. He had everything available to him.
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[New Quest Received]
SWORD TO SERVE
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Description:
You need a teacher and a banner to stand behind. Find a worthy knight and earn a place as his squire.
Objective:
– Secure a formal squire's contract with a hedge knight or sworn knight
Bonus Objectives:
– Win or draw in a proving spar during selection
– Obtain a signing stipend (coin or gear)
– Gain a letter of introduction to a captain of the City Watch or a tourney master
Rewards:
– +1 Strength
– +1 Dexterity
– Otherworld Token
– [Skill] Squirecraft (0/100) (Novice) (tack, armor care, camp duties, logistics)
– [Skill] Court Etiquette (0/100) (Novice)
– Starter Kit: Maintenance Roll (oils, whetstone, rags)
– +200 XP
____________________________________
'Well that's some motivation,' he thought with a sigh.
By late afternoon, the thrill began to temper as their feet ached and the sun beat down. "We should find that inn Willem mentioned," Arthur said, wiping sweat from his brow. "The Quill and Tankard, he said it was fair for newcomers."
Mira nodded, fanning herself with her hand. "Lead on. My legs are screaming."
They asked directions from a fishmonger near the River Gate, who pointed them toward the Street of Looms. The inn sat midway down, a three-story timber building with a sign swinging in the breeze, which was a quill crossed with a tankard, faded.
Inside, the common room was packed. Merchants nursing mugs of ale, laborers sharing platters of bread and cheese, a group of sailors in the corner belting out a bawdy song. Heads turned as Arthur and Mira entered, eyes lingering on her curves, the way her dress hugged her massive breasts and flared at her hips. A few men leered openly, one with a scarred face whistling low under his breath, another nudging his companion with a smirk.
Arthur's jaw tightened, his arm slipping protectively around Mira's waist as he steered her toward the bar. The innkeeper, a stout man with a red-veined nose and a greasy apron, looked up from polishing a tankard. His eyes flicked over Arthur dismissively, then settled on Mira, widening slightly as they traced her figure.
"A room for a week," Arthur said flatly. "What's the cost?"
The innkeeper set the tankard down slowly, his gaze still on Mira. "Two copper stars a week for a private room upstairs. Clean sheets, basin for washing. But..." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a greasy whisper. "For a beauty like your companion here, we could make a deal. Half off if she joins me for a drink or two after hours."
Arthur's face darkened. He slammed the two copper stars onto the counter, the coins rattling sharply. "The full price."
The innkeeper grunted, his leer fading into a scowl as he swept up the coins. "Fine. Lira! Show these two upstairs."
A young woman emerged from the kitchen door, wiping her hands on her apron. She was pretty in a rough way; brown hair in a loose plait down her back, freckles dusting her nose, but her teeth were crooked when she smiled, and a scar pulled at one eyebrow. "This way," she said, her voice warm and apologetic as she led them up the creaking stairs. "Sorry about Da. Ever since Ma died two years back, he's been desperate for any woman that'll have him. Thinks every pretty face is a chance at a new start."
Arthur nodded stiffly, his arm still around Mira. "No harm done."
Lira glanced back at him, her eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scars peeking from his collar. "You look strong," she said with a flirtatious tilt of her head. "Bet you could handle a bit of trouble. What brings a man like you to the city? Looking for work? Or just passing through?"
Mira cleared her throat, her voice sweet but edged with steel as she pressed closer to Arthur, her hand slipping possessively into his. "He's here with his wife," she said, emphasizing the word, her fingers lacing through his. "We're starting a new life here together."
Lira's smile faltered, her cheeks coloring slightly as she backed off a step. "Oh, right. Well, here's your room. Bed's firm, window overlooks the street. Breakfast's porridge and bread downstairs at dawn, a penny each if you want meat."
Arthur thanked her, and she retreated down the stairs. He pushed the door open, revealing a small space, a narrow bed with a straw mattress and threadbare quilt, a wooden washbasin on a stand, a single stool by the shuttered window. "Home sweet home," Arthur said, setting the sack and pack down with a wry smile.
Mira stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and let out a long breath. "Finally," she said, her eyes lighting up as she ran her hand over the quilt. "No one telling us what to do. Just us."
Arthur pulled her into a hug, his lips brushing her forehead. "Just us."
They unpacked quickly putting the new clothes folded on the stool, wnd keeping the food stowed in the pack. Mira changed first, slipping into the undergarments and the blue dress, the fabric fitting her curves perfectly, the laces cinched to accentuate her waist. Arthur watched from the stool, his heart swelling at the sight. "You look like a lady from one of those stories," he said.
She twirled, her massive breasts shifting with the motion, a playful grin on her face. "And you look like a Lord in that tunic. Now go wash up, you smell like the road."
Arthur laughed and complied, splashing water from the basin over his face and arms, scrubbing away the last of the grime until his skin felt clean. He changed into the fresh breeches and linen tunic,
"Arthur," she said quietly, her fingers lingering. "We're really here. It's starting."
He took her hands, squeezing them. "It is. And tomorrow, we make it better. Willem's job at sunset—copper star for a few hours' work is pretty good."
Mira nodded, but her expression turned thoughtful. "What about after? The work, the city... it's all so big. How do we even begin?"
"One step," Arthur said. "Find a hedge knight, squire for him. Earn our keep. Build from there."
She smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. "With you, I believe we can."
The afternoon wore on outside their window, the city's hum a constant backdrop, but inside the room, for the first time, they felt a spark of hope. Sunset approached, and with it, the promise of their first coin in the capital.
"Guess it's time to go earn some coin," Arthur said to himself.
(AN: So they finally made it to Kings landing where they can settle down and start to build their life. Though for Arthur it'll definitely mean more problems. Though there is now the chance he'll meet some targaryens, perhaps a certain girl.)
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