chapter 137 part 2
Arya nodded, a smile already returning to her face. "Father, I ran into Lord Glyn. He's the one who brought me back. We're good friends now."
A faint curve appeared on Lord Eddard's lips. "Arya, that's very impressive of you, making a friend so soon after arriving here."
He added, "Tomorrow, I will find a tutor for you..."
Arya shook her head. "Father, I can't learn a lady's needlework..."
She held out her small hands, looked down at them, and continued, "They're really clumsy. They can't do delicate things."
Lord Eddard sighed, "Arya, my child, you have a certain wildness in you. Your grandfather called it the 'wolf blood.' My sister Lyanna had a bit of it, and my brother Brandon had much more. In the end, they both died young."
Although Arya was still young, she could hear the sorrow in her father's words.
Her father rarely spoke of his own father, brother, and sister in front of them. Arya only knew that they had all passed away before she was born.
Lord Eddard's gaze was deep and distant, as if he were lost in reminiscence.
"If your grandfather had agreed back then, Lyanna would probably have wielded a sword as well. Sometimes, when I look at you, I am reminded of her. You even look quite a bit like her."
Arya said, flustered, "Father, Aunt Lyanna was a great beauty."
Everyone in Winterfell said so, but no one had ever used Lyanna to describe Arya. They called her "Arya Horseface."
A slight smile appeared on Lord Eddard's face. "You are very much alike. Both beautiful and willful."
*Father never lies...* Arya was overjoyed inside, her small face covered with a happy smile.
After walking a few steps, Lord Eddard spoke, "Arya, you and Sansa have argued a few too many times on this journey. You are sisters."
Arya avoided Lord Eddard's gaze, turning her face to the other side. "She always tells on me. I hate her."
Lord Eddard said gently, "Your personalities may be different, but you are both Starks. Winter is coming. You need her, and she needs you just as much. And I need both of you, my child."
Arya looked at her father and saw a deep, hidden exhaustion... Arya's heart ached. She didn't want to give her father any more worries.
She nodded slightly. "Father, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. I will forgive Sansa."
After a pause, she added, "I want to learn the sword!"
...
Clegane Manor.
After removing his armor, Glyn entered the study and stood directly before the map hanging on the wall.
The plan for the westward advance was proceeding very smoothly, and Aemparoa had already proven her capabilities with her battlefield achievements. Glyn was just waiting for the westward campaign to conclude to hold a knighting ceremony for Aemparoa.
Glyn stroked his chin. He decided to hand over command of the westward advance to the commander of the Thorn Legion, Aemparoa. Per Pily would lead 2,000 soldiers to King's Landing, while the commander of the Garrison Corps, Ma Gang Beck, would continue to guard their territory.
As for how to mobilize them... Glyn's gaze moved to the position of King's Landing, his pupils trembling slightly.
After pondering for a moment, his finger first tapped on the Vale, then on Dragonstone below it.
Glyn's left thumb, held behind his back, rubbed against his index finger.
...
...
A certain slaver's manor on the western coast of Essos.
Viserys Targaryen, just recovered from a serious illness, looked even more gaunt. He was currently sitting on the most magnificent chair in the main hall, his body leaning sideways against the armrest.
Viserys stared at his weary-faced sister, his tone laced with ridicule. "Daenerys, are you planning for me to retake the Iron Throne with ten thousand slaves? Are you trying to make the Usurper die of laughter, my dear sister?"
Daenerys Targaryen took the cup handed to her by Borona, her voice tired. "Brother, we still have a year."
Daenerys had learned from the slaves she rescued from the ship that they came from a manor that specialized in selling slaves, and that it was not far away.
Daenerys knew very well they couldn't just drift in the Narrow Sea forever. She needed to find a temporary base as soon as possible to facilitate her subsequent plans.
They docked at a small port, sold everything that was useless to them, and restocked on weapons, horses, food, and other supplies before heading toward the slave manor.
Only then did Daenerys truly feel the agony of riding a horse. After traveling for two days, she felt half-dead. Sitting on the saddle for days on end had left her buttocks covered in sores. Her thighs were raw from constant chafing, and her hands were blistered from the reins. The muscles in her legs and back ached so much she couldn't even sit up straight. Without the help of others, she couldn't even dismount.
...
Viserys said with a cold laugh, "Dear sister, it should be said that there is less than a year left."
Although Daenerys knew Viserys had never been patient, she was truly exhausted and had no desire at this moment to deal with her brother's bellyful of complaints.
Seeing his sister ignore him, Viserys's temper flared.
He shrieked, "Watch your attitude! The one sitting here is the King of the Seven Kingdoms, the true King of the Iron Throne!"
Everyone cleaning the great hall immediately stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Daenerys.
Daenerys waved a hand lightly, signaling for them to continue.
She turned to Viserys, whose face was somewhat distorted, and said softly, "Brother, I'm sorry. I'm just too tired."
Daenerys's sincere apology dissipated Viserys's anger. He laughed contemptuously, "My dear sister, you are too frail. I seriously doubt whether you can keep your promise."
Daenerys pursed her lips and said, "Viserys, rest assured, I will definitely do it!"
A satisfied expression finally appeared on Viserys's gaunt face.
Borona stood motionlessly behind Daenerys, her face impassive. The so-called true king reclining in the chair had to confirm the promise with Daenerys every two or three days. She was almost getting used to it.
Viserys suddenly laughed. "Daenerys, you have no time to rest. This manor is surely under the protection of a nearby city-state. They will soon learn what happened here and will quickly dispatch an army."
His voice seemed to rise intentionally. "You can't possibly be ignorant of such a simple truth, can you? If it were me, I would never make such an obvious mistake!"
Viserys was deliberately saying this for everyone present to hear. He had long been dissatisfied with the fact that everyone only took orders from Daenerys... He was plotting to seize power, but being alone and without support, he could only use this method to suppress his sister's prestige for now. When the time was ripe, he could take over the entire force.
"Your Majesty, that's not necessarily true."
It was the voice of Ser Jorah. Daenerys looked over.
Ser Jorah gave the princess a slight smile and strode over.
Ser Jorah could not be called handsome. He had the neck and shoulders of a bull, and his arms and chest were covered in thick, black hair, while the top of his head was bald. But his smile could easily put people at ease.
Jorah stood before Daenerys and bowed his head. "Your Highness, Anguy has scouted some good news. The city-state that protects this manor seems to be at war. I believe we can rest and reorganize for a period of time. Your new soldiers need basic training."
Before Daenerys could speak, Viserys mocked, "Haha, new soldiers? Are you talking about those recently unshackled slaves? You're quite the comedian, you homeless, wandering knight."
Jorah turned to Viserys. He bowed slightly and said calmly, "Your Majesty, a soldier's duty is to stain his weapon with the blood of his enemies. What his status was before is of no importance."
After speaking, he turned back to Daenerys. "Your Highness, please allow my counsel. Your handmaiden Osha is very suitable to be the instructor for the new recruits. I must admit, her abilities in this area are outstanding."
(end of chapter)