NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Instrument
I'd be playing against people like Littlefinger, Tywin Lannister and the rest of them.
Varys, I was sure, was going to be on my side as long as I looked like his perfect little princeling.
Tyrion, on the other hand, was a wildcard. When he and Young Griff met, Tyrion was little more than a depressed drunk who did rape that girl in the brothel and the other one in Illyrio's manse so perhaps he won't be in the best mind to help me.
'Unless he's show Tyrion in which case everything should be hunky-dory.' I liked the Lannister, don't get me wrong, a fun character who was very witty and entertaining. But as a person, Tyrion was fucked up.
I quickly decided it would serve best to let everything play out like canon where I could predict everything going on and act accordingly.
Should I decide to interfere, it would run the inevitable risk of them making decisions I hadn't predicted.
Between all the different characters I could have become, Young Griff was perhaps one of the better ones. I was surrounded by a loyal party of talented individuals, thought dead and therefore below notice.
It could have been worse and be thrown into the deep end where I would be forced to swim against a strong current from the very start.
It wasn't all running through fields of roses, however. The danger was that my knowledge of things to come was only good until a certain point, no small thanks to George not releasing Winds of Winter.
Another problem was that I couldn't make gunpowder. I didn't even know how to create the compound, nor did I know the correct formula without risking it blowing up in my face should it even work at all.
That wasn't even mentioning other things like proper quality metal and the other bits not worth mentioning. I tried though. I racked my brain but nothing came of it.
Perhaps I'll figure a way but I doubt it. For that, they'll sadly be no Golden Company armed with cannons mounted on the backs of elephants. It would make a fanciful image, I imagine, but I didn't have the skills to pull it off.
While gunpowder was out the question, I could modernise the Golden Company into something that could change the face of warfare using the very tactics that changed Europe.
My parents said I was nearly obsessive about history and that it would give me nothing of worth. I disagreed then and I really disagree now. If anything, it may just save my life.
.…
The sun was beginning to rise as I sat on the deck of the Shy Maid, fingering the strings of the harp Griff had given me.
It was a nice looking instrument, polished and oiled and decorated with elaborate patterns.
Valyrian symbols, the exiled lord explained when we stopped at the town of Valysar. Not like I could read them, but they looked nice and that was good enough for me.
I ran my fingers across the strings, the soft sound filling the air alongside the unconstrained chirping of grasshoppers, the songs of distant birds and the humming of crickets.
I couldn't play, not yet at least. In my past life I never played instruments, something I wanted but never did.
My fingers seemed suited for it, slender and elegant as they were. Septa Lemore claimed I had the fingers of an artist and had offered me lessons on how to play.
Something I eagerly accepted. 'Rhaegar's fingers,' my mind thought as they held the harp. I thought deep about that.
Apparently, after my second coming and with Young Griff's change in attitude to becoming more solemn, Old Griff took that as meaning I was acting more like my possible father. Such a feat was worthy of gifts apparently.
Speaking of which, I really did need to find out about my true father. While I wasn't the kind of person to make plans on the fly, I had a grasp of long term planning and made a few of them should any of my considered outcomes come true.
It mostly boiled down to either being a Blackfyre or the sun's son. Illyrio Mopatis would know and it was a good thing we were heading to him after much persuasion on my part.
Pentos was still nearly half a continent away and we were chugging along upriver with all the speed a small single-mast poleboat could go.
It was also a shame we took various stops that lasted anything from a single night to a few days, one time had been a whole week.
Annoyingly, none of the others were in any haste for Pentos. If anything, it felt like they were purposely delaying it. Not something I liked, but I didn't complain. They could have simply refused. At least they were listening.
So while we made the route, I acted like a good little boy. The few times I was allowed to leave the safety of the Shy Maid I put my head down and tried to act like part of the crowd.
Fat chance with a full head of blue hair. Many times both me and Old Griff stood out like sore thumbs nor did it help that I spoke none of the native tongues despite claiming Tyroshi heritage.
I supposed it would have been amusing to outsiders as I stared at them dumbfounded while they spoke in a language that made them sound like they were bloody singing.
It was perhaps because of these various linguistic problems that I was fast learning it.
I could even say a few words of trade talk and Volantene. Children were fast learners compared to adults. When I asked the reasoning behind the stops, Septa Lemore's excuse was to resupply as well as money.
Illyrio wasn't constantly supporting us and only sent supplies on occasion. So most of the time we were forced to make do on our own. I had never tied fishing nets before, nor did I do much work that was labour intensive.
Essos had proven to be a good learning experience. If I had been Joffrey or any other noble with servants to do my bidding, I would have quickly fallen to sloth. This way I'd be constantly working.