NOVEL NEXT Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Ruthless
"Then teach me. Teach me how to kill."
Rolly nodded. "First things first. The most important thing about fighting is distance and footwork, as you should know. I know Old Griff and myself have taught you the basics. I see you have trouble with the range of your sword."
That must have been clear. I was shorter than Rolly who was both stronger and had greater reach.
Being a child yet to experience the joys of puberty, I was still fairly short. My body was slender and yet to properly gain muscle.
Weighing the sword in my hand, I felt comfortable with my weapon. It was a hand-and-a-half sword, not a longsword and fairly long for someone of my size.
But I'd grown accustomed to it.
Rolly stood before me. He was a tall and brawny, armoured in thick padding, a chainmail hauberk and padded trousers.
There was no way I could fight against him in strength and endurance. It did seem I was more agile than him though, but the size of the Shy Maid made testing that nearly impossible.
Giving a nod, the match started.
I didn't move, my feet rooted in the ground. It felt more naturally to me to let my opponents go first and I fight defensively, only pressing forward when I saw an opportunity to strike.
In my various bouts with both Jon Connington and Rolly, that was how I fought best. Not Young Griff though, that kid went all out desiring a quick victory. I was more cautious.
As expected, Rolly lunged forth, grunting as he did so. I met his sword with my shield, a surge of pain rippling through my arm.
Suppressing a yelp of pain, I stepped back. Rolly got out of range before I could counterattack.
The man had the bloody strength of a blacksmith and if he'd an axe or hammer, I could swear he'd easily break my arm.
Again and again Rolly lunged forward, me not making a move if I could help it. In the heat and weighed down by his armour, it was clear my sparring opponent was tiring much more quickly than myself.
His strikes became slower, growing weaker, aiming lower. Grinning internally, I took my chance.
The next time he came, I blocked his strike and pushed forward, thrusting my sword toward him. Duck was forced back.
When he tried one last desperate move to turn it around, I tied up our swords and snaked a leg around his.
Within that moment, I used his size against him and grappled Rolly to the floor. It was easier than I expected, but Rolly hadn't put up much of a struggle.
In the end, I was on top of him and we were both laughing.
"I wasn't expecting that, lad," he chuckled, as I climbed up and gave him a helping hand.
"Seven Above." He spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"That was an improvement. What would you have done then?"
Learning against a stone pillar, my response was little more than a tired gasp, "Ask if you submit. If so, I help you up. If not, well, I thrust my blade into your neck."
I saw a flash across his face, when he laughed. "More ruthless than before, aren't you."
"In truth, I don't think I have the freedom to be honourable. As you said, I'm not as good as I was before. I need to be ruthless, don't you think?"
"Sure, sure," Rolly didn't seem to be paying attention as he stretched his back. "Less honourable though. I thought you quite liked honour."
"That must have been the old me. The new me is not one for honour, I confess. I prefer results."
'While honour is the mark of a great man, so is a tombstone.'
"Spoken like Griff."
Yes, Griff. Didn't surprise me when I read his chapter. From the way he spoke, the way he thought, Joncon desired to act like Tywin Lannister, a man renowned for his ruthlessness.
"As long as I'm getting better with the sword, eh?"
"Being good with the sword is one thing. But don't be too ruthless, lad. His lord of Lannister is ruthless. Maegor the Cruel was ruthless, as is Lord Stannis. None of them are or were ever loved."
"You need to be loved if you want the throne. You need the people to rise up for you. You may get some with fear alone, but you'll get more with honey."
I nodded. He knew about Westeros more than me . . . at least when it came to the smallfolk's opinions. He knew what the smallfolk wanted, what they desired in a leader.
"If I'm like them, the people won't rise for me . . . will they? They'll have no reason to. If I'm feared, they're more likely to rise against me."
Like Machiavelli said, I needed to be ruthless and strong enough for people not to rise against me, but I needed to be loved enough for them to have no reason to.
Lord Tywin was feared, yes, but once he had gone everyone turned against his house like a pack of starving wolves.
People feared him but they didn't love him. When he was gone, he had grown from the most feared man to the most ridiculed.
While Lord Eddard died due to his honour, he was loved enough for people to still fight for him and his house after his death.
'I need to find a good balance between the two.' One couldn't truly succeed with one and not the other.
.…
It was a few days later when Illyrio's carriage arrived. At the sight of the column entering Ghoyan Drohe, I was both impressed and embarrassed.
I was supposedly meant to be kept hidden but, from the baggage train that was sent, you wouldn't have thought it. It was clear to see that Illyrio Mopatis didn't do things in half measures.