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***
265 A.D.
"Easy, easy, easy... let's get a little more... gotcha." - The barely audible whistle of an arrow snapping off in flight, which had become long habitual in two years of practice, was as always pleasant to hear. But the most pleasant moment, a favorite of all hunters, is what follows. The sound of the hit. How an arrow, which has been shot hundreds and thousands of times before, sinks into the soft flesh of the prey. As with that sound, the beast that lived unaware of its fate becomes a trophy. So now, by the characteristic dull sound of the tip digging into the flesh and the rabbit carcass falling on its side, I realize that today's hunt was a success.
Standing up and shaking off my clothes from the clods of earth and leaves stuck to them, I went to see the result.
"I've been bowhunting for six months now, but so far every time is like the first time for me. That excitement... that thrill... that slight uncertainty of whether today's raid will be successful still haunts me. Even though the last misfire was two months ago." - All these thoughts crossed my mind as I walked towards the shot rabbit carcass. The arrow had entered the neck without damaging the most valuable part of the fur on the body, and it hadn't hit the head. After all, it is not a fact that after hitting the skull, the arrow will not slip on the bone and the rabbit will not be able to survive and leave, and the arrow will have to be replaced or bought a new one. There have been such precedents. - "My marksmanship is improving little by little. This carcass could sell for a whole groat, and if my father gutted and skinned it right, it'd be worth a star."
Taking out the arrow, taking care not to break it or damage the tip, for I had only ten of them, I scrutinized my surroundings. The forest near our farm, like all the lands around Ashmark and the Golden Road, had always been famous for its game. And where there is game, there is also a hunter who can easily become prey. Because of this, even without going further from "civilization" than a few kilometers had to look carefully with both eyes at everything around. This habit the old hunter (Peace be upon his ashes) had beaten into me in the first place. After all, wolves appearing here and ready to eat a handsome six-year-old boy are not rare. Wiping the arrow from blood and animal fat, so that it would not rust and serve me as long as possible, I quickly, honed dozens of times, making an incision in the neck, drained the blood of the rabbit, so that it did not spoil, and put it in my improvised "backpack". Remembering how much effort and patience it took me to turn a simple grain sack into a hunting bag with pockets for the catch, my eye began to twitch.
"No, I enjoyed the process itself, but Aerys' constant jokes would drive anyone to the edge, no matter how old he was." - Remembering that little ulcer that was only two years older than this body, a smile involuntarily crept onto my face. On Earth, I was the only child in my family, and I never had any brothers or sisters. Because of this, I was always sad when I had to see other people who were not deprived of this happiness. And angry when I saw that many people didn't appreciate it. And now, realizing that you have an older brother and two little sisters waiting for you at home, a smile appears on my face.
«Time to check the snares. - As good a shot as I am for my age, the most game I can catch is with traps. Simple traps, made from a few skeins of rope I learned to make in the early days of my apprenticeship. Ashford Forest is certainly not as huge as the famous Royal Forest or the Wolf's Wood, but there are a lot of unintimidated animals here. Tywin Lannister should be thanked for everything. After he destroyed the Reyns and Tarbeks and plundered their lands, the number of hunters visiting this forest has greatly decreased - it's hard to hunt without a head. And because of that, the beast became much more plentiful. So much so that they began to settle on the outskirts of the forest.
So, strolling through the virgin, almost untouched by man forests, gradually collecting today's catch from the snares, I sincerely enjoyed this beautiful and unpolluted air, warm and bright sun and almost complete absence of mosquitoes, slowly heading towards home.
I still can't quite believe that I was reborn in a new world.
For the first two years, I did nothing. I behaved like a normal baby, except for the fact that I started talking and walking much earlier. I didn't want to have crooked legs for the rest of my life. Plus a little physical training, like stress and pressure on the muscles. But as soon as they stopped looking after me at the age of two, giving me the opportunity to explore everything outside the four walls and places where my parents took me, the dam of my patience burst.
Being determines consciousness. This is the only reason I can explain why a man who lived 78 years and was not considered an idiot would eat the brains of everyone around him with a teaspoon, like a real child. They could not tolerate it for a long time and sent me away uncomplicatedly. I then, having sat on information hunger for two weeks, was ready to climb the wall, did something that no one expected. Apprenticed myself to a herbalist. At age 3. What is usually done at the age of 12. All the villagers were shocked, including the herbalist herself, who was somehow persuaded by a small boy. I didn't expect such a thing of myself at the time. I've never had a talent for public speaking. That's what necessity does to a man. Before the others could get over my prank, I became a hunter's apprentice at the age of four. Words were no longer enough. I had to expropriate a bottle of good Dornish wine from my neighbor's stash, which he was hiding from his wife.
"Where did you get it? I thought it cost 15 deer."
I, the old hunter and our neighbor's wife, who found out about the stash and what was hidden there, were satisfied with the results. And for three years now I have been studying the art of herbs to create medicines and tinctures under the guidance of an old herbalist. Hunting was worse - I was an apprentice to the old huntsman for much less time than I would have liked. The hunter, unfortunately, died six months ago, leaving me a good willow bow, a dozen combat arrows and a huge body of knowledge about the forest and its inhabitants, saying before his death that I had a great talent and should not stop honing it.
"May the gods bless him."
The rest went to his relatives, who thought he was a hopeless drunk, even though he had a lot to be thankful for.
"Oh, is that Stardust?" - I came across a bush of a low grass, with small purple flowers, I distracted myself from sad thoughts, without thinking I plucked it, digging up the root beforehand. Old Chloe will thank me for such a gift. It is necessary to pay for her education?
So, picking berries and herbs on the way and putting them in the inner pockets of my jacket, I reached home.
Our nameless farm, which consisted of only seven houses with five families, was bustling with its daily life. I could hear the hammering of the anvil in the local forge, where Bern, an old blacksmith from the northern lands, whom I thought I would apprentice to when I grew up. For now I can't even lift a hammer with two hands. There were children running around the central wasteland, playing knights and singing the recently popular "Reins of Castamere." The rest of the adults were nowhere to be seen. All the men and most of the women were laboring on their farms and paddocks, for the farm was inhabited by fairly well-to-do peasants with their own fields and livestock. Old Chloe, the local herbalist and my teacher, was locked up in her house again, creating another medicine. And a few old ladies sat on a bench and half-eyedly watched the kids running around.
It was idyllic.
Immediately I remember the year when I, who had learned to speak and walk, managed to communicate normally with the others, and began to explore everything. Every cabin, every tree, every rock surrounding this place. Although I was not allowed to go further than a few meters away from my parents. And with what delight I listened to my father's stories about the Seven Kingdoms and the people living in them.
Admittedly, when I realized that I was in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, or Game of Thrones as most people know it, my condition could only be called shock. I had never been into this universe, I had only heard a few comments from acquaintances and watched a few episodes of the series with my granddaughters, who loved the atmosphere of the magical Middle Ages. I myself was a more old-school person and was used to other work of a similar vein - The Silmarillion, The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. So it wasn't until I heard the last name of the ruling dynasty that it became clear to me where I was going.
Targaryens. Dragon riders. Blood from the blood of Ancient Valyria.
"The Exes."
There was a lot about this universe I didn't know. All I remember is that in 298 Robert Baratheon dies, having seized power in Westeros 16 years before. He had sort of rid the kingdom of Targaryen, who had gone mad, and started ruling himself. After that, it was a wild mess. The war of 5 kings I can't remember, the constant deaths of those kings, the appearance of an army of ice zombies behind the local Hadrian's Wall, the mayhem in Essos, the local second continent by the two remaining descendants of the local dragon riders. And that's it.
We can draw conclusions. I know when the white furry beast will come to this land, I know that it's best not to join any side, since those "sides" have been dying like flies, and I know that it's best to stay out of the North.
This will not affect my plans, because when the main events of the canon begin, I will be over forty years old. So I'll do what I want to do - travel the world, learn from different people and at the end of my life I'll settle down somewhere and create my own Paradise.
With these thoughts I finally reached home. A small but sturdy wooden house, one story, with a few oxblood windows with wooden shutters, and a stove pipe made of red clay. It's nothing special. I see seven of these every day.
Once inside, I quickly went down to the basement. I had to put the game in the cold so my father could properly disembowel it when he got home from the fields.
«Today we have five rabbits, two partridges, and three quail in the ingredients. All freshly killed and bleeding. Not bad. - In the tone of a professional chef I sang, carefully plucking the birds. You can sell the feathers later - they are used to make many things, such as pillows, arrowheads, writing implements, and more. It costs a pittance, but copper pittance turns into copper stars, stars into silver stags, stags into silver moons, and moons become golden dragons.
I'm the second son of a poor sword knight and I'll never get my inheritance. It will all go to my brother and my sisters' dowries.
After I finished cutting up the bird, I went to our barn, which was a small annex to the house, where together with my father's old mare, two cows and three sheep, in a separate corner hung bundles of dried herbs that I had collected during three days of walking in the woods. It didn't take long to dry and hang the herbs, but towards the end, I heard the inhabitants returning to the house.
«So... I left to hunt in the morning, returning an hour after noon. It took 2 hours to prep and pluck the birds, another hour to dry the herbs. Hmm, so that's 5 hours. Time flies fast. - In a similar vein of thinking that time flies faster when you're busy, I reached the house where my family was gathered.
"Yes, that's right, family."
Alexander Cold is the head of our little family. A sword knight, retired and settled in the Western Lands. According to his stories he is a native of the mountain clans of the North, who went south during another winter to work, but never came back. He said he traveled Westeros from tournament to tournament for a long time, slowly accumulating money and fame before settling in these parts. According to him. He even had a nickname, the Ice Axe, given to him because of his weapon, a giant two-handed axe that he was rumored to have chopped an iceberg with when he was still in the North. Alexander himself is a tall, black-haired man who only recently turned thirty-five. Like any Northerner, he has thick black hair that he grows with his beard, a muscular build, and the correct facial features that I inherited from him.
The second most important person in our family is Cersei, still a young woman who will be in her fourth decade in a couple months. I've always marveled at how my father, who may have been a ruggedly handsome man, could marry such a beauty. Long hair the color of autumn leaves, cute oval face, with big green eyes, a small straight nose and soft red lips, always folded into a friendly smile. Her recent childbirth had not spoiled her hourglass figure, making her the first beauty of our settlement, and of all the Western Lands, as my father used to say.
Now Cersei held the hands of two little angels, twins Elia and Thea, born a year ago. The two twins were exact replicas of each other with their raven-wing colored hair, brown eyes with a slight tinge of green around the edges, and the childlike facial features that all little children have.
And finally, my biggest pain in the ass. My brother Aerys, whose exact replica is me, except for the color of my hair. If my brother is born with spiky hair the color of fresh coffee, which he has to cut into a hedgehog, I inherited my father's thick black hair, which is slowly growing back. Otherwise, my brother and I are exact copies of my father as children, with his straight nose, high forehead and bushy eyebrows. The only thing we inherited from our mother is bright eyes, like emeralds, which, according to the neighbors, even in the darkness glow like Wildfire.
It's been said that the body determines the mind, hasn't it? And so it is here. When I was born, I couldn't take these people seriously as family. I couldn't see this bearded man as my father and this young girl as my mother. But time works wonders. Now I even in my mind called them my parents. No need to talk about my brother and sisters.
"I'll take that as another wish of the senile old man I once was."
«There's our hunter. - My father was the first to notice my presence and gestured to the table where the whole family was already seated. It was time for dinner. I quickly sat down on my seat and got a stew from yesterday's rabbit, with cabbage, onions and carrots, I began to work actively with a spoon. - What's today's catch?
«Five rabbits and five birds. - Breaking away from the food and taking a slice of fresh bread, I quickly answered without interrupting the meal. You can get a spoon to the forehead for talking while eating and wiggling at the table. Aerys broke that cutlery once with that part of his skull when his father miscalculated his strength.
«Well done. - My father, who had eaten long ago and was now looking at us with a smile, praised us as always. He had acquired the habit of eating quickly on the hikes and still couldn't get it out, despite all the promises he had made to his mother. - There's a fair in two weeks. I'll take you with me. We'll sell whatever hides, feathers and meat you can get. I think we can sell everything for four deer. It'll come in handy.
"Yeah, like I don't know that you and mom save them in a separate bag under the stove."
He was silent for a moment, thinking about something, and then he lowered his gaze to Aerys and me.
«You've gotten big enough now that you're not exhausted after a simple warm-up. I think we will start your training with weapons from tomorrow. - My brother's shout of joy and the smile that appeared on my face after that only caused him to smirk.
For three years now, I have been doing the "warm-up" training with my father and Aerys, the training used to prepare children in the mountain clans for the harshness of life in the snowy mountains. According to my father's stories, serious training doesn't begin until the age of 8, when the younger generation's hand motor skills are more or less normalized. But, according to him, my brother and I are talented enough. My brother, despite his parents' constant help on the farm, where he learns to help and manage the household, was already in good physical shape enough to start serious physical training.
There is no question about me. I started secretly, in all seriousness, developing my body from the age of three - light stretching, plank, various variations of squats, push-ups and abs have paid off. Even now, I'm the same height as Aerys, which makes him wildly complex and often gets into fights. With me. Also, we can't forget that I've been going hunting for two years now. Because of this, our family eats meat every day, which is good for the growth of the young body.
After waiting for my brother to get away from my father, I went over and hugged him, saying thank you for everything he does for me. I did the same with my mother, complimenting her cooking for the umpteenth time that evening. I kissed the tops of my sisters' heads, hugged my brother, who was swinging a wooden sword in the corner of the house and imagined himself as Barristan Selmy, fighting the last Blackfeather and cutting off both his heads for the umpteenth time.
"Whatever the child wants," were my own thoughts as I went outside. Westeros is a medieval world after all and so everyone here lives by the solar cycle. They rise at dawn and fall asleep at dusk. And it was just about sundown. I have three more hours before Cersei catches me again and sends me to bed. Time best spent practicing archery.
"Whatever the nobles say about the cowardice and unworthiness of the ability to love your neighbor from afar, it's very useful to the common man in surviving in any conditions," I thought, moving from place to place and shooting at targets from different positions, trying to get the necessary reflexes into my body. On Earth, when I was making a homemade bow for my grandson and myself, I had read quite a lot about the capabilities of professional archers. Most professionals can determine where an arrow will hit by instinct alone, just by looking in the direction of the shot for a moment. I'm as far as the moon to such skills, but who's stopping me from striving for it? Especially when those around you, as well as your mentor, say(s) you have talent... more like the stubbornness of a sheep.
The rest of the time was spent in the company of the bow, training arrows, the bowstring constantly breaking (Good thing a skein of twine for the bowstring only cost two pennies, or I'd never get any money with that kind of spending), and the feeling of the calluses on my index and middle fingers getting rougher and rougher. It only ended when Cersei, to the constant nagging that I'd stayed up so late again, dragged me by my ear to the big bed where the rest of the family was snoring quietly.
"So another day is over. Training starts in earnest tomorrow. We have to do a good job. And don't be late for old Chloe's class."
***
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