Act II: Chapter 5

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I went to grab a wooden longsword as it was what I had been using for the last six months.

I had gotten rid of the bastard sword as I continued to grow. It was great for those who preferred a shorter blade and liked to use strength and other limbs to their advantage. But as my limbs continued to grow, so did the correct amount of distance I needed between me and my target.

So I had put down the shorter bastard sword, and picked up a long sword.

Now, contrary to what I was told in my last life, these terms 'bastard' 'longsword' and 'greatsword' were just basic ways of describing many many different designs of sword.

In general, a bastard sword has a shorter blade and a hilt that allows one to wield it with two hands. Although there are bastard swords without a hand and a half hilt. In fact, most of the time it is used to describe blade length, balance, and weight more than anything .

A long sword is just that, a little bit longer than a bastard sword. Some of them are lighter, and built for one hand. Some of them have a longer hilt similar to a hand and a half.

I eyed one of the wooden great swords leaning on the wall. It was absolutely not the size of someone like Sandor Clegane's great sword, or the Mountain's. It was only barely longer than the long sword, with a thicker blade. The hilt was a proper two handed hilt, however, it wasn't much longer than that.

I let go of the wooden long sword in my hand and leaned it against the wall again. Instead I grabbed the great sword.

'Ping!'

I sighed audibly.

'So this is why my sword skills haven't advanced.' I thought as I looked at the notification.

'Advanced Sword Fighting Unlocked!

You are approaching some of the great's in skill! Ser Barristan the Bold, The Sword of the Morning Arthur Dayne, Rhaegar Targaryen, Jaime Lannister. Will your name be whispered beside them?'

'Advanced Sword fighting:

Defense Lvl 10

Offense Lvl 10

Horseback Lvl 10'

For the last year, I thought it had been because I didn't have a truly great swordsman for a teacher. Ben was really really good, but I could beat him nearly everyday. Robert didn't count because he used a warhammer, and Brynden had ran off before he could really teach me anything.

I stepped out of the arms house at Storm's End with my new weapon.

'I'll have to get a new sword forged then, something along this size. If it's gonna be a great sword, it'll be a small one.' I thought.

I twirled the blade around and made a few cuts with the weapon. It was definitely heavier, but not so heavy that I couldn't pull off my normal flair.

"Decided to go bigger did you?" Robert asked as he twirled his warhammer in his hands.

I mimicked him, and then dropped down into my stance. He attacked me with a roar.

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"Lord Baelish."

I turned to the servant girl running my way. "Yes?" I asked politely.

"Lord Baratheon wishes to see you." The servant said politely but did not leave. "Now." She elaborated.

I nodded towards her. "After you." I said, causing the girl to begin walking in the direction she came from.

'Seems commissioning a new sword will have to wait.'

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I walked into the hall to see all of the Storm Lords in attendance.

Robert was sitting in the Lord's seat at the head of the room. He had a cup of wine in his hand, and a serious look on his face.

Ser Courtney was beside him, with his normal grim look on his face. They were becoming fast friends. It made sense, because eventually Courtney would be named castellan of this very castle while Robert rules as King.

"Everyone is here then!" Robert spoke to the room of gathered lords. Apparently I was the last person to arrive.

I did not seek out a seat next to one of the Storm Lords as most of them had begun disliking me for my position as commander over the cavalry. They despised it even more because the knights underneath me actually respected me. All that was amplified by the fact that I hadn't made any blunders during our brief Battle at Summerhall.

'Who would want to take orders from a 13, almost 14, year old?'

It would have probably won me many favors if I had done poorly in the battle. That would have made the lords feel better no doubt. Although I would have been shamed in their eyes.

"The Tyrell's have made their allegiance known! Mace is gathering his host and plans to march to Storm's End." Robert told us as he stood up.

"They will have 70,000 men ready in the next month. Most of that will be mobile in two weeks." Robert continued as he paced up and down the hall in front of his chair

"Flowery knights!" One Storm Lord yelled mockingly at the number of men.

"Their numbers cannot compare to the people of the Stormlands!" Another one decided to throw in his two cents.

"Do not underestimate them." I said, before they could convince Robert that we could march on 70,000 men with our 25,000. With a standing army of men that had been trained their whole life, we might stand a chance.

But against 70,000 men under Randyll Tarly's command… best to avoid that fight unless one had superior numbers and positioning.

"You scared of a fight Littlefinger?" The same man, Lord Roger, that had challenged Robert before the Battle of Summerhall said towards me.

"Careful Lord Roger, my arrows have been felling Lord's left and right." I retorted quickly. The words just flew out of my mouth without effort. I wanted to get a quip in and not allow someone to stand up for me. I must be seen as strong.

The Lord's face scrunched up at the threat and he stood up out of his chair. I was beginning to think that the Lord felt a little entitled, as he could dish it out but couldn't take it.

The lords around the hall laughed at the quip, for they knew it was true.

"Hahaha!" Robert's bellows echoed through the hall. His serious face had turned to a lighter one. "You would be wise to heed his words! Deadlyfinger, the men call him now! Sit down Lord Rogers, Petyr is right!"

I nodded towards the Lord as he obeyed Robert but glared at me while doing so. "There is a reason the roads around Horn Hill are safe." I told the men while I still had the floor. "Randyll Tarly is a man of war, and he will be commanding those 70,000 men if Mace is smart." I warned everyone.

As far as I knew, Randyll Tarly had yet to distinguish himself as a fantastic commander yet. He was too young for the War of the Ninepenny kings and there hadn't been any significant battles since then.

"Aye!" Robert agreed. "That is why we will march north tomorrow. We'll meet with Jon Arryn and Ned in Riverrun before the Tyrell host can amass. Make your preparations, we leave at Dawn!"

Robert had apparently had enough of this gathering of lords and him and Courtney stalked out of the hall.

I wasn't far behind him.

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You would be surprised at how fast an army could move, especially if it was already used to marching and battles. It had been a couple of weeks since we had moved the men to Summerhall, and with the rest at Storm's End they were finally in marching shape. Not only that, but they were blooded.

This was extremely invaluable for us. Our men had been through battle together, and were now bonded for life as far as I was concerned.

The cavalry was also shaping up to becoming something impressive. I now rode with 4000 men under my command everyday. We marched in formation and performed maneuvers that would serve us well in the coming war.

I had also taken a liking to the horn on my waist. Somehow it made me feel more legit as a commander. When I blew it, people listened.

We arrived at Summerhall a few days earlier than the last time we had marched and we decided to camp and rest the men for the day, due to our early schedule. I wanted to encourage us to march forward, to try and avoid the ambush at Ashford. But if I was wrong and they were already there, our men would be tired and doubly unprepared for it.

Instead, we camped in the ruins of Summerhall. Truly, it was in ruins.

Most of the men seemed to avoid the actual ruins of Summerhall, instead preferring to camp as far away as possible. They thought it was haunted and cursed by the seven.

It might not have been cursed by the seven, but being a Targaryen seemed just as bad. At least, the ones that were inside during the fire at least.

I wasn't sure what led me to walking through it's halls. Rhaegar claims to have been at peace inside it's walls. I was not.

But as I stood in the hall, the biggest open area of Summerhall, I felt nothing but unease. There was a presence here that was similar to Harrenhal. You could not see anyone or anything around, and yet there was a weight on my shoulders.

I ignored it as I continued to walk through the ruins. The sun was setting so it was becoming hard to see anything.

I walked amongst the marble stone walls, finding old chairs that had yet to be claimed by Mother Nature. I found cups and dish sets. I found torn tapestry that must have hung on the walls at one point.

Eventually I found myself in the hall once again. There were pillars rising up on either side of it, showing me the frame of the house. But the ceiling and roof were gone, collapsed by the fire that ruined the estate.

"Whatever happened here, the people who died inside did not go easily." I muttered as I looked around where the great hall stood.

Under my feet, I knew there to be stone, but all I could see was dirt. Top soil had begun to claim the floor of this place, probably being brought in by animals and the rain.

Some parts, vines crept up the walls. Grass grew on the areas that caught sun most often.

"I wonder if I could purify this place somehow." I said to myself as I thought about what I could do to lift the oppressive weight on my shoulders.

I spent some time looking through my skills to see if there was a way I could do it. The only thing that crossed my mind was planting a weirwood somewhere close by.

'Maybe the old gods would do this place some good.' I considered as I stood in the center of the ruined hall.

'Inventory'

Most of my inventory was full of food, although I had two daggers stashed away in case I ever got captured and needed a way to escape.

But I still had one single weirwood cutting inside. It was one I had planned on planting on my journey. When I arrived in Storm's End, I considered planting it there. Then I thought it would be useless and unloved in such a place.

I had thought I would do it in King's Landing, if I ever made it to that stinking pile of shit. It was a prank I had considered. I was planning on seeing if I could plant it close to the Sept of Baelor. The Fath was sure to burn it shortly after, but it would be epic to watch them panic as a full grown weirwood sprung up overnight. What a sight it would be.

But as I stood here in Summerhall, I couldn't help but think that the weirwood would flourish here. People rarely visited here after all. It would be with nature, left alone to the animals

It might also become the weirwood that was furthest south. Supposedly they were all cut down when the First Men crossed the Arm of Dorne.

Perhaps I would plant one in Dorne one day.

I took the cutting out of my inventory with one hand, and drew my sword with the other. I dug into the ground with my sword.

Immediately I hit the stone some two feet beneath the dirt that covered Summerhall. I sighed, knowing that I would probably need to get rid of the stone, so that the roots of the tree would be able to reach down into the earth.

Then again it is a magical tree that feeds off of my blood, maybe it'll just push through it?

"Fuck it, what else will I do all night?" I thought as I grabbed the flat of my sword.

I started digging.

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I wasn't sure what woke me. Maybe it was the sounds of the men packing up the camp and getting ready to march for the day. Maybe it was the sound of swaying leaves in the morning wind.

When I opened my eyes, I discovered that I had fallen asleep in the night, just after I planted the weirwood apparently because I could feel the rough wood on my back.

I looked above me, and sure enough I could see the white branches of a fully grown weirwood, covered in red leaves, blowing in the wind.

Already, some of the red leaves had begun to fall on the ruined floor of Summerhall. I shifted my legs and stretched my body out like a cat would. The feeling of stiff joints greeted me as it was hard to move my neck.

'Note to self, don't sleep on a weirwood or it'll fuck your back up.'

'Thunk'

'Thunk'

I looked to the sound, confused as to what had fallen next to me. It took me a moment to realize what they were. At first, I thought they were just stones that had been pushed up from the roots of the weirwood.

That was, until I saw the unique colors, and the scales that traveled along their bulk.

My heart leapt to my throat as soon as I realized what they were. I scrambled forward to grab them and quickly shoved them into my inventory.

I stood up quickly and looked around, afraid that someone might have seen me. Nobody was around. Nobody but the weirwood tree. A tree that stared into me with a face already carved on it.

A face of sternness, as if it had just given me a gift, that it wasn't sure I was deserving of.

Just to double check that I had seen them correctly, I pulled up my inventory. At that same moment I had a notification pop up on my screen.

'Dragon Eggs!'

'Ping!'

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"Are you alright?"

My head swiveled and I looked to the speaker instinctively. Ben had ridden up beside me at some point.

"Of course. Why do you ask?" I retorted, confused.

"You have been staring into the air since we left Summerhall." Ben said, prodding me for information.

"I have a lot to think about." I told him. There was no way that I would tell him about what I found at Summerhall. Maybe one day, but today was not that day.

"Does it have anything to do with the weirwood that everyone's been talking about?" Ben said, poking me for information even further.

I didn't bother to give him an answer to that question, and instead I let the silence fill the air between us.

While I had a bit of reprieve from the conversation, I pulled up my inventory. It filled the right side of my screen. At the very bottom sat two objects that I was convinced I would never see in this life, or at the very least wouldn't see for years to come.

One of them was a scarlet red that covered it's entire frame. It did not have scales that faded into a different color like Dany's had in the show. It was beautiful, but had a deadly appeal to it.

The other was as white as snow, as white as the branches on a weirwood tree. The colors were not lost to me, it was the colors of a weirwood tree. White branches, red leaves.

White and red dragon eggs.

That wasn't what bothered me. What bothered me was how and why.

How did they get there? Were they a part of the rumored dragon eggs that Aegon V had tried to hatch the night of the great fire? Had the weirwoods themselves birthed them?

Why were they given to me? Were they even given? Or did the roots just push them up out of the ground?

Was the colors of the scales a coincidence?

"Yes, that is what I mean right there." Ben interrupted me.

I dismissed the inventory holding the dragon eggs. Perhaps he was right, perhaps I was obsessing over them a little bit. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon, that's for sure. I didn't even know how to hatch them, although I had more of a chance than anyone else in the world to do so.

But that would require privacy and time. Privacy that I wouldn't get until the war was over. Time that I did not have yet.

Now would be an awful time to hatch dragons. The war wouldn't last long enough for them to become relevant. They would only become a liability. Everyone and their mother would be trying to kill them just to rid the world of such a dangerous species. The few that wouldn't want to kill it would want to take them from me, and that would also never happen.

Anyone that witnessed their births would think me a practitioner of black magic also. It was obvious to me that Dany had birthed them by offering 3 lives, for 3 lives. Khal Drogo, their son, and the witch had been what had birthed the dragons.

Fire and Blood.

That was sure to go over well with my fellow lords, and even my smallfolk.

I would need privacy, and a few men faithful to me to pull it off. Ben was the most immediate one to come to mind. Davos, in a few years maybe.

"I see that you are determined to stay in your trance." Ben muttered to himself before he tugged on the reins of his horse and began to ride away.

"Sorry Ben!" I told him, waving him back over to me. "I am just worried." I lied. "We have been away from home for a long time, and I worry about Baelish Keep, and the plans we started."

"Ah Lina is there, she'll keep everything straight." Ben retorted confidently.

I almost winced, as I thought about the girl I bedded and left with a broken heart. I had thought about her often, but more in terms of how she was doing as the steward of my growing Keep and not in a romantic sense. I really was an idiot.

"It is more the Clans, than the workers or the projects." I told him, continuing the conversation.

"They accepted the deal…" Ben muttered, trying to stay optimistic.

We were both thinking the same thing though. Most of the men were away at war, and my land would be prime for the taking.

"The Mountain Clans value honor." I told him, trying to be optimistic. "But they also love glory and plunder." I added at the end, so as to be as realistic as possible.

"Enough talk of troubles." Ben said as he shook his head. "Soon we will reach Ashford and head north. Once we gather with the Vale and the North, this war will be ours."

I smiled at my friend, happy about his optimism.

'First we will have to make it through Ashford without being smashed by Tarly.'

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I stepped into Robert's tent, curious as to why he had called me so late at night. Normally our war meetings were before dinner.

When I walked in, I saw Robert standing there with Ser Courtney by his side. They had cups of wine on the table, and they were staring at a small parchment laid on it. A familiar parchment that I had delivered a week ago, detailing the capabilities of the cavalry under my command.

"Robert." I greeted, as I stepped inside. "Ser Courtney."

"Petyr come over here." Robert said in a more serious voice.

I did as I was told and walked over to the parchment. On it, I had drawn squares for representations of the cavalry. Off to the side I had a number assigned to the square as a representation of how many were in a square. Then I had drawn out the maneuvers we were capable of at the current time. It wasn't much, only a false retreat and different variations of a pincer attack, basic things really.

"Is it not up to standard?" I asked, curious as to why they had called me in to talk about the marches of my men.

"The opposite!" Robert answered as he peeled his eyes away from the parchment. A small grin crawled up his face. "You've turned knights of the Stormlands into Knights of the Vale."

I frowned, not sure what he meant. Knights of the Vale were notorious for being mounted, but I wasn't sure that his assessment was accurate.

"What he means is that the Stormlands have always relied on the strength of our infantry. The smallfolk are a hardier people than the other regions, the North excluded, because of the mountains and the constant storms." Ser Courtney corrected.

"Is this praise, or have I overstepped?" I asked, unsure of what they meant. The cavalry was in better shape than it previously was, but it wasn't up to the standard I would make in a couple more months.

"Praise you fool!" Robert answered in his typically loud way.

"Lord Robert and I have been talking about this constantly since.."

"Oh get to it!" Robert interrupted. "We want you to do it to the rest of the men!" He said.

'Wait, is this a promotion?'

"All of them?" I asked, trying to get more clarification.

"We'll start with the infantry for now." Ser Courtney clarified. "Then perhaps we will see what can be done with the archers."

'Ping!'

'Commander talent unlocked!'

'Infantry Talent unlocked! Replace Cavalry talent for Infantry talent?'

'No'

I bowed slightly. "It would be an honor." I said, accepting the quasi promotion. "But what will the other Lords say about this? I had a hard enough time getting the cavalry to obey me." I asked.

Most of our army was infantry, so I could understand why they would want me to drill the main bulk of our forces. After all, battles could be won with my cavalry, but the infantry would win the war.

"It is a problem, that is certain, but you managed to win the respect of the knights. You'll just have to repeat the same with the infantry. Should we manage to win a few battles, the Lords will be forced to obey you." Ser Courtney answered.

I nodded, and turned around to head back to my tent.

"Before you go." Ser Courtney called out.

I turned back around, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"Could you tell us of your plans?" He asked.

I smiled at them, and nodded. "Of course, I have more parchment detailing it in my tent. I will be right back."

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"Why march them all day? The men will be exhausted by the time we reach Ashford. Not to mention Riverrun." Robert asked as he looked down below us.

We sat on horse, as was common for our station. We rode beside our marching men, and my eyes were scanning over them. They were in formation, in their armor. Most of the infantry had a shield, a sword, and hardened leather for armor. They were severely under equipped for the war to come.

But that's what happens when you don't have a standing army. Lords could provide swords and shields, but rarely could armor be made quick enough to arm 25,000 men. That was one of the reasons for the Marian Reforms in the Roman army. The Reforms turned an army of militia, almost exactly what I was working with now, into a standing army paid for by the Senate of Rome.

But for now, I would have to deal with what I had. So if nothing else, my men would be in shape and capable of tactics on the battlefield. We would no longer engage in a massive melee, hoping that we would win with numbers or courage.

No, we were going to be extremely disciplined.

"Their bodies will eventually adapt to the stress. We feed them well enough, and we keep drinking water in their hands. Within the next two weeks, we will have the most disciplined and conditioned army in Westeros." I answered, uncaring for the hardships of the men below me. It was a necessary cruelty to get what I wanted.

"I've been meaning to ask you." I said, getting Robert's attention again. "I need another horn."

"What for?" Robert asked.

"The cavalry, and the horses are used to the tune this horn produces." I told him simply. "If we have two commanders using the same horn, our forces will become confused and out of sync."

Robert looked down at how the men moved together. I knew he was already impressed with the progress, but all I could see was how the men's feet hit the ground at different times, and how some lagged behind the others.

"We have a long way to go.

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A/N: Boom!

What a chapter! Petyr finally advanced his Sword Fighting to the advanced level, and will now be able to do more than just hold his own against the great fighters of Westeros.

We got an in depth look of Summerhall after it's destruction. Petyr keeps planting Weirwoods on a whim, and he keeps getting reaping rewards from it. When will he learn to just plant them everywhere he visits?

DRAGON EGGS! Need I say more?

Finally, Petyr get's command over more than just the cavalry!

Let's talk about it in the comments/reviews!