[Lifespan Left - 73 Years 6 Months]
It was frightening to see his lifespan go down from seventy-six to seventy-three years and six months. But he decided to make the purchase anyway. In the world of Westeros, there were a few skills without which he couldn't survive long.
While he already knew horse riding and swordsmanship, he didn't consider himself a true master. After all, he practiced with blunt swords. Meanwhile, in Westeros, steel was steel, and it was meant to cut things down. And he needed that skill.
So, a night before heading out for the Tourney at Harrenhal, Wylis slept alone in his room. It'd been weeks since that night with Lyanna, and they'd casually met each other a few times since then. At night, of course. She was still not fully accustomed to his size but they were slowly getting there.
Alone, while lying on the bed, he summoned that magical screen in front of his eyes and purchased: Sword Mastery, Archery Mastery, Horse Riding Mastery, Survival Mastery, Knife/Axe Throwing Mastery, and Hand-to-Hand Combat Mastery.
All of it in one go.
A big mistake on his part.
That night, he chewed on the pillow in fear of waking up the entire Westeros with his screams. The pain arose not only in his head but also in his spine, and every single muscle on his body. In real-time, he felt all the information leave a print in his mind. He felt it slowly as his awareness of the purchased skills grew exponentially.
It felt like his brain was being fried, and his muscles hardened by the sudden years of training experience. He just chewed the pillow, grinding his teeth like a madman. Every vein on his body bulged, his clothes drenched in sweat. The ordeal lasted hours, possibly the entire night.
When he noticed the morning sunlight through a tiny crack in the ceiling, he knew the night had passed. Panting, exhausted, he finally felt normal.
But it was a heavy lesson learned. From then on, he planned to never buy more than one experience at a time.
With a heavy sigh, he looked affront at the stretching Kingsroad through the dense trees of Riverlands. They'd already set out for Harrenhal—Him, Lyanna, Brandon, Benjen, and a few Stark soldiers and two carts carrying equipment. The plan was to meet up with Eddard and Robert who'd already arrived at Harrenhal.
For Wylis, this was an exciting experience. For the first time, he was out of the North and he was already loving it. As the winter was ongoing, he didn't like Winterfell much, always dirty, muddy, and covered in snow. Even just reaching Riverlands was a relief. Greenery everywhere, not that much mud, and also warmer.
But right now, he noticed the people had started to think the Winter had passed. He knew they were wrong. 281 AC was the year of false Spring that lasted two months. As far as he remembered, it'd soon start snowing and it'd snow even in King's Landing.
"How many Knights will there be in the Tourney?" Wylis asked, keen on understanding the world around him.
"Too many." Brandon Stark responded from his steed. "But you bested me fair and square, Wylis. Even with my twisted ankle, you fought well. You're better than most knights out there. Just be cautious around the likes of the Prince and Selmy."
Hah! Sprained ankle my ass. Wylis remembered the man jumping around like a rabbit to stay away from his reach. He'd won against Brandon in his prime.
"And Robert." Lyanna added, squeezing forward her horse between Brandon and Wylis'. "He's a brute. Be careful."
"Oh? Could it be... heavens! Are you wagering against your own sweet betrothed?" Wylis teased, his grin as wide as the moat. Even Brandon chuckled, and from the back, Benjen's laughter echoed. Her brothers were well aware of her disdain for Robert; it was no secret.
Lyanna glared, her angry face too mismatched in Wylis' eyes as he only thought it was cute. He'd felt that ever since they became pals. She just lacked the size to be lethal to him.
"Fine," Lyanna huffed, rolling her eyes. "I'll pray to the gods that he knocks you flat in the melee. May you land on your ass and cry out for Old Nan." With a mischievous grin, she struck a sharp smack on Wylis' horse's rear.
Pa!
"Neeehhhh!"
The horse neighed in frenzy and tried to shoot off forward in wild galops. But Wylis skillfully controlled it, only letting it raise its front hooves for a moment before resuming a normal trot.
"..."
Lyanna was speechless.
"By the Old Gods, Wylis, when did you become a master horseman?" Brandon exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise. "Either way, you've earned the right to borrow my spare jousting kit."
For a moment, even Wylis was in shock.
Jesus Christ! Fuck! That was… exciting. It felt so natural!
"Well, I'm officially the stableboy. It's only natural I'd know horses best."
"Hah! Is that so? Then how about this—" Brandon shared a quick glance with Benjen behind and then Lyanna. "The last one to reach Crossroads Inn buys the wine! And not the cheap kind—Ha!"
Bring it on, buddy!
Wylis, truly enjoying himself with the Starks, let his instincts control him. He'd mastered horse riding already, the knowledge was within his brain, and his body was already used to it. All he had to do was just… do it.
"Ha!"
####
"Shit! That's a lot of knights." Wylis saw it from a distance as they neared Harrenhal. The ruined castle wasn't as impressive as the tents that sprawled around the castle itself. Smoke pillars rose at many spots, and countless flags fluttered in the wind.
"Scared already?" Lyanna teased from his side, a sack of wine in her hand. Benjen had lost the race and had to buy the wine.
Wylis scoffed and raised his head proudly. Using both hands, he combed ten of his fingers through his hair, settling them backward. "It's called excitement, Lyanna. I know no fear."
"Oh really?" Lyanna suddenly steered her horse closer to Wylis and whispered with teasing eyes. "Looked pretty scared when I nearly bit them balls that time."
"..."
He did remember that vividly. At times, Lyanna tends to get too lost in the act of sexual pleasure, leading to some strange behaviors from her side. Not that he was complaining.
"That's a different thing… Let's move faster."
They sped faster and soon arrived at Harrenhal. As Wylis had expected, a grand tent was set up for House Stark with the other northern houses dotted around. Of course, the members of House Stark would sleep within the castle itself. The tent was for soldiers and preparations for the tourney.
"The tourney events start from tomorrow. A great feast will be held in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths tonight." Brandon informed them all. "Wylis, if anyone stops you, just say you're my squire."
Wylis agreed right away. He was so lowborn that even being there was a stroke of luck for him. Getting to enter the great feast was a much greater opportunity. Sure, he was already stronger and much taller than Brandon. But Brandon was also older.
After dismounting their horses and handing them over to the Stark men at the tent, the four of them walked towards the castle. The scale of it was insane, and the ruined grandeur was ominous. Dragons did that, and those dragons were long gone yet the dynasty had continued.
Wylis walked behind the three Stark siblings to avoid any unnecessary chatter. But still, Wylis stood almost seven feet tall, and he was built like a muscled bull. It being winter, his fur cloak elevated his massive form, and the greatsword on his back made him all the more terrifying. Yet, one look at his face and most men stared at him in awe rather than fear.
I was prepared but… this will be a challenge.
Wylis felt he could never act or plot secretly in the future due to his height. Blending into the crowd was impossible. And his two-handed Great Sword, six feet long itself, also caught too many eyes. It was annoying to carry it on his back, but he got by. He planned to take complete advantage of his monstrous size, strength, and arm reach with an even longer blade.
As they approached the walkway to enter the castle, an old scribe sat at the gates with a small table and a booklet. Knights and lords who entered the castle could add their names to the tourney there.
"Brandon Stark of House Stark. Add me to melee and joust." Brandon put up his name. Lyanna was a woman, and Benjen was just fourteen, so they didn't join any.
"Ser?" The scribe looked at Wylis then, the old man's eyes gleaming with interest at the colossal man.
It was awkward for Wylis. He was no knight and was called Ser. "I am no knight, not yet. I am Ser Brandon Stark's squire—Wylis of Winterfell. Add me to melee, archery, ax throwing, horse race, and the joust."
"Ambitious, aye, lad? That only leaves the tourney of singers," the old scribe said, chuckling. "You don't want to take part in that, my big friend? You do have a deep voice."
Wylis shook his head. "I can't see anyone enjoying a tall brute gurgling random words."
"Pfft—" Lyanna laughed at his side. "That's right. He only knows how to grunt… whilst wielding his sword."
"..."
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