"These are the three hunters who arrived. They are said to be the best of the best and are ready to teach you, my Prince." the maester spoke casually, his hands crossed.
He appeared quite eccentric, not like a typical maester. Usually, the maesters are solemn and diligent. They are obsessed with knowledge and rarely go out. On the other hand, Zalarys's maester was too laid-back and cheerful, appearing a bit nonchalant and acting casually, as if he didn't have the honor of joining the sacred order.
He also had a black and silver chain, which meant he had mastered both the healing arts and ravenry.
"Hmm... Thanks, Nick, appreciate it." Zalarys said to Maester Nickolas, Nick for short, as the Prince called him. He was tall and quite young, in his twenties, with black hair and black eyes and a small beard, wearing robes. Nick was Zalarys's teacher and the one who had taught him the poison arts. His intentions weren't bad. He had simply got carried away and almost lost his head because of it.
In front of them stood three men. The first was gaunt and of average height, with brown hair and green eyes, neither old nor young. The second was a man with long braided black hair, darker skin and onyx eyes. The last was a pale middle-aged man with streaks of white in his dark hair, his eyes a dull brown. Zalarys at first thought he was drunk, but there was no smell of liquor, so he just shrugged and moved on.
"Fine then, I have a test for you all!" Zalarys put his hands on his waist, proclaiming loudly, surprising the three men, while Baelon, who watched from the balcony above, covered his face in embarrassment.
"Yes, my Prince!" They shouted, though the dark-skinned one wasn't especially enthusiastic. "What do you wish us to do?"
"Okay, here's the deal." Zalarys looked around, checking if anyone was nearby, and leaned forward. They followed suit since it seemed like some kind of secret. "Settle it with rock, paper, scissors. The victor shall be my teacher, I suck at this."
They stared at him blankly, their expressions unimpressed and disappointed, while Zalarys sweated nervously, glancing up at his father.
"My Prince, surely you jest." The middle-aged man sighed, feeling a bit awkward.
The others nodded too, unwilling to play games with a boy. Zalarys, seeing their reluctance to embrace his genius idea, let out a long sigh, slumping forward and crouching down, thinking for a moment. Then his eyes grew curious, his face turning thoughtful as he asked something he had wished to know for some time. But no one ever gave a clear answer, not wanting to offend the royal family.
Retards... It's not like I'd kill you for an honest answer. I don't give a damn about hollow pride and every stupidity that comes with that shit... Letting out a soft breath, he rested his cheek on his fist, looking up with a languid smile.
"Can a man hunt a dragon?"
The gaunt man swallowed, not knowing how to answer, and looked at the Maester, who just shrugged with a lazy look.
You're no help! He thought in disbelief, then bowed with a reserved look. "I don't think so, my Prince. Dragons are mighty beasts that rule the skies."
Zalarys pursed his lips, disappointed with the answer, and turned to the next one.
"I am of the same mind, my Prince." The middle-aged man sighed. He couldn't imagine a man besting those ferocious creatures that could burn the world.
"What about you?" Zalarys yawned, standing up and stretching, his eyes closed as he was already bored.
"Yes." The dark-skinned man said expressionlessly, staring at the Prince with a blank look.
Zalarys blinked, staring at him in shock, then turned and glanced at Maester Nick, who nodded with a small smile.
"Why do you think so?" Zalarys asked carefully, choosing his words as he licked his lips.
"I ask you this, then." The man locked eyes with the Prince, his voice faintly amused, though there was a hint of dark glee barely noticeable beneath the humour. "Do dragons bleed?"
Unknowingly, a smile formed on Zalarys's face as he nodded rapidly, his eyes wide open. "Of course they do..."
"Whatever bleeds can be killed. It matters not if it is man, beast or dragon. Even gods... if they bleed, then they can be slain." The man smiled darkly as he answered.
"Marvellous! I love your answer!" Zalarys laughed, rushing toward him. "What can I call you, my good sir?"
"Not sir. If I'm your mentor, you will call me Master. As for my name, it is Hihkran." He said, nodding with crossed arms.
"I understand. Then I will be in your care, Master Hihkran." He nodded, satisfied with this development. But slowly his joyful expression faded, looking up at the tall man and asking curiously. "Are you from Essos, Master?"
"I am from the Summer Isles. However, I spent most of my life in Essos." He replied with an amused look, letting his hands fall. "Is that a problem?"
"Not at all!" Zalarys laughed with relief, wiping his forehead. "People from Essos... well, not everyone, but some fight dirty..."
He paused, scratching the back of his head and coughed, correcting himself. "I meant fighting with everything they have, to gain victory by any means necessary. Lord Corlys told me about it and I have always admired that kind of approach."
Looking up at Hihkran, Zalarys spread his arms playfully. "It will be my pleasure to train under a fighter as versatile as you, Master."
Hihkran nodded to him solemnly, his fist at his chest. "The pleasure is mine. I have heard you adapted to your dragon's poison... It seems it is time to make your fighting style as adaptable as your body."
"Uhmm... Master Hihkran, my Prince... I think we have lost the thread here. Weren't you going to learn how to hunt?" Maester Nick wore a dubious expression, wondering how the conversation had arrived at this point.
"I will teach him to hunt, of course." Hihkran smiled, his tone reserved and polite. "Both man... And beast."
_________________
A few months later...
"Faster!" Hihkran yelled sternly as he raised his wooden sword, deflecting the blow which, for him, was weak and light, but Zalarys had put all his strength into it.
Sliding on the wet, slippery ground, Zalarys abruptly stopped by planting his wooden sword in the dirt, rooting himself in place, and then launched himself forward with gritted teeth, slashing upward at Hihkran, aimed at his head. But Hihkran sidestepped fluidly, thrusting down and hitting his back with the wooden sword.
Zalarys grunted, falling into the dirt, his hands out front to prevent his face from hitting the ground as well, but alas, another strike slammed him down.
"You're too weak. And stop confusing fighting styles. That attack is used against a boar when it's rushing toward you, not against a man."
The little Prince nodded, spitting out dirt with displeasure, wiping his face and dragging himself up, breathing heavily. "I know... I just wanted to try if it would work on you too."
"I was surprised, but no, it won't. The body of a beast and the body of a man are completely different." Hihkran spoke coldly, then took a step back and pointed his sword at him. "Rise. Training isn't over yet."
"Yes." Zalarys said only this, balancing his body and making the motion of sheathing his sword even though there was no scabbard, leaning forward as he took his stance, eyes focused.
Seeing him go defensive, Hihkran nodded with a pleased expression, satisfied that his pupil knew his limits and, instead of attacking blindly, chose to defend and find an opening to give himself a chance at victory. Of course he knew this. He was the one who had taught him that.
And since Zalarys wasn't approaching, Hihkran took a step forward, raised his sword and dashed with incredible speed, making Zalarys yelp in surprise. Not expecting such a direct attack, he drew his blade from the imaginary scabbard and sent out a horizontal slash to push his master back and buy time to create distance.
However, Hihkran was much taller than the little Prince, and he managed to leap over him entirely, making Zalarys look up with a dazed expression as Hihkran turned in the air, rotating his sword with stunning precision, and descended, smashing it across his back once again.
"Goddammit! What the fuck was that!?" He screamed through gritted teeth, falling into the wet dirt once more, bitterness twisting his fine features.
"That, my dear student, was acrobatics." Hihkran grinned, cracking his neck, the sharp sound echoing out, and rested his wooden sword on his shoulder.
"But you said while it looks cool, it would get me killed in a real battle!" Zalarys spat with venom, his back was sore, breathing painful, his ears buzzing and lungs aching, his chest rising and falling in quick intervals as he turned over and lay on his back.
"Sure, but you're a brat. I can play around and still win." Hihkran shrugged nonchalantly, not really caring that he was a Prince, and it wasn't like Zalarys was some petty noble. "What? You're angry about the loss? Going to make excuses? Heh."
"Fuck no. That's for damned cunts." Zalarys rolled his eyes, covering his face with a resentful look. He wasn't one to cry over defeat, but losing every single time was disheartening. No one likes to lose.
"If you aren't a cunt, then stand up. We train with bows now." Hihkran was done joking, ordering him to get ready once again.
It could be said that the only person Zalarys obeyed without throwing a tantrum was his mentor. That was how much he respected and admired him.
"Like before?"
"Yes, as we did before. Choose your own bow and arrows. I will correct any mistakes you make." Hihkran spoke, leaning on the wall and watching him make his choice.
Zalarys grabbed a medium-sized bow, looking at it curiously, but dropped it instantly, feeling pain as his master struck his hand with the sword.
"Wrong. You're young. Choose a smaller bow with a lesser draw weight."
Zalarys sighed, grabbing another reluctantly, then went to the arrows and looked at them for a moment, taking a liking to the iron ones. But as his hand reached for them, he paused, instinctively glancing up at Hihkran, who was already prepared to strike him again.
Gulping, Zalarys wiped sweat from his forehead, took a deep breath and chose the wooden arrows. Phew... I avoided getting beaten up again.
"Good. The target is near. You use iron arrows for long shots. And with your physique, iron arrows will tire you out quickly, besides, you have small bow." Hihkran nodded, lowering his sword.
This is abuse! Master, please be more gentle! I will tell... Shit! I'm not a bitch, I won't sell out my teacher! Dammit! Dang it! Darn it! Dam... I-I... I don't know any more curse words! Fuck! He thought with bitterness, drawing his bow, but for some reason he didn't continue, already sensing the inevitable descent of the wooden sword toward his head.
Well... I think I can predict this already. He thought, getting used to the pain and finding it a little amusing.
"Relax and balance your body. Distribute your weight evenly and make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart, understand?" Hihkran began, explaining while correcting his stance, using both theory and practice at the same time. Zalarys nodded, following his master's guidance without protest.
"Now relax your grip but don't let go of the arrow..." He nodded, doing as he was told and relaxed his grip.
"Now take a deep breath, inhale and exhale... Focus on a single point on the target, not the whole dummy." Hihkran said as he corrected his shoulder, his hands on Zalarys's back and chest straightening his posture, the back pain involuntarily making him hunch. Zalarys closed his left green eye as he aimed and...
"Release!" He yelled, and Zalarys let go. The arrow cut through the air, flying with great speed, but it shifted direction slightly and missed the target entirely.
"Huh? Why!?" Zalarys groaned, spitting on the ground with a furrowed brow.
"What I didn't explain was wind. Right now the wind is coming from the left, so you need to aim slightly left as well, letting the wind push the arrow back to centre. And the lighter the arrow, the more wind influences it. But your choice still wasn't wrong. You have to account for your stamina and how many enemies you're about to face. If it's a single target and you're confident in one shot, take the iron arrow, but if there are many and you aren't confident, take the lighter one. As you grow stronger and develop your muscles, your tactics will change. But for now, this is what you do. Be versatile. Adapt to any situation and find a clear path to victory. That is what separates you and me from those rigid knights. Understand?"
Zalarys was a little disappointed but nodded nonetheless. He hadn't understood all of it, but he trusted his master, who was far more skilled and experienced than anyone he had ever seen. "Yeah. I will."
"Pfthhh... Better than knights..."
A cocky voice came from behind, barely holding back laughter. Looking back, Zalarys saw a young man, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, standing with another boy he didn't recognise, and some girls, along with his aunt Viserra, giggling softly behind her palm.
Well... looks like she's still angry I lied about the boys. What, got punished by grandfather again? Ah right, she was locked in her chambers. Zalarys thought with an amused smile, happy that he had irritated his aunt.
But as revenge, looks like she's instigating a fight, using this idiot to teach me a lesson or something. Zalarys frowned, he wasn't particularly perceptive, being a child still. He could only guess this because twice he had annoyed his aunt, twice he had been beaten, once by his father and another time by some random boy.
Nothing had happened to that boy though. It had been taken as children fighting over something stupid. Jaehaerys wasn't known for being unjust, so no one was punished.
Now what to do... I know I'm not playing along with whatever she wants. I'll end up demolished again, so I should...
"Zalarys..."
Zalarys snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his master's voice. Looking back, he saw Hihkran leaning down and whispering to him with expressionless face, his onyx eyes bleak and saturated with coldness.
"Smoke him."