Why do you wish to learn to fight?
POV: Author
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Once upon a time, an infant was born in a former slave ship captured by a small force of the Iron Fleet a year before. The captain of the flagship took all the slave women of that ship as his salt wives.
The captain was the biological father of that newborn child.
After two long years of hunting on the open sea, the crew members were unhappy with the human booty they had gathered and their paucity of riches.
The captain decided to sell the slaves, the only valuable booty won with iron, to the free city of Volantis.
Once there, a strange, hooded merchant offered ten gold honours for every child no older than two years. The captain accepted without thinking and sold all the children, even the newborn child, from his seed.
The merchant was a sorcerer from Qohor...
A short time later, a group of priests and sorcerers from Asshai and the free city of Qohor collaborated to perform an ancient and powerful blood magic.
For every child on the altar, 10 had to be sacrificed so that the magic ritual would take place and the chosen one would survive the process...
The chosen child had to be of a robust constitution to have a greater chance of survival. Next to the child was placed a creature from the lands of Sothoryos. The spellcasters wanted to see if it was possible for humans, through these rituals, to acquire traits unique to the magical creatures themselves.
Magic was thinning in the known world... there was not enough power for that kind of arcane experiment.
All rituals failed except one...
The ritual of that newborn child.
The infant came out of that ritual in critical condition and was permanently damaged. In addition, the rare type of Eagle of Sothoryos burned in flames and turned to ash during the ceremony.
Since most of the spellcasters considered it yet another failure, they decided to put the abomination out of its misery. However, a priestess of Asshai, named Melisandre, opposed the barbarity...
The witch had seen a message in that flames.
The woman took the infant and left it at a specific spot on the street in Volantis, which the Lord of Light had shown. R'hllor had a plan for that being. A few minutes later, a famous lanista from Meereen and his procession passed that street. The handmaiden of the Wise Master's wife asked permission to receive the wounded, malnourished and malformed infant. It was granted.
The handmaiden was the wife of the Champion Gladiator of the Lanista...
Years later...
A child of a very frail constitution watched his father. Both were constantly exchanging silent smiles and glances.
The man was training diligently. The child was joyfully studying every moment, every gesture and every detail of the man's fluid and precise movements. He felt a sense of peace, accomplishment, admiration and slight envy. He knew it would be impossible for him to fight, but he watched him anyway and did so joyfully.
The child had a unique ability that only his father, the Great Future Champion of Meereen, knew.
The eyes... those eyes could observe details and inaccuracies that no one else could perceive.
The child remembered EVERYTHING he saw. His gaze caught every imprecision, uniqueness, finish or detail of everything, like a sequence of detailed paintings he could leaf through whenever he wanted.
He would gladly help his father with his training. He would warn him (secretly) where and when movements were wrong. He could spend whole hours observing without suffering hunger, thirst or sleep. The feeling of peace he experienced in observation was unique...
Shortly afterwards, a rival Wise Master, fearing that his champion would be defeated by the Grand Champion at the next competition, ordered a late-night attack on the lanista's house.
Many perished that night, including the lanista and the child's adoptive parents.
The Grand Champion managed to get the child and his mistress -the lanista's wife- to safety before perishing surrounded by enemies.
Years later...
A boy left a note near a mansion's door in the city of Pentos.
On the note was written:
[I leave in the hope of finding that peace. Thank you for everything.
P.S. I took seven silver coins from the drawer].
Years later...
A young man was advising and explaining movements to a group of people who had chosen to follow him.
He had not asked for it. He had no interest in gold, fame or power. Instead, he liked to observe and seek that feeling of peace.
Every time he met someone, trained or fought, and stayed to observe, that sense of peace returned.
Over time it was becoming more and more challenging to find that peace.
He had not yet found anyone who conveyed harmony and tranquillity to him like he felt when observing his father.
But the young man was not discouraged and continued his search.
If asked for advice, he would provide it. If they asked him for help, he would grant it.
Soon a group of pupils was formed. When they asked the young man if he could teach them to fight, he would only ask:
"Why do you wish to learn to fight?"
Based on the answer, the man would get an idea of how much potential the person had and how much peace he could find. Some answered, "I must avenge my family", some ", I want to be remembered and feared", and others ", I want to open a martial school". The young man refused no one. He would only put one condition. When he realised his potential was exhausted, he would stop giving advice, and if he left to seek peace elsewhere, anyone could follow him or go their own way. He did not care.
Soon the man was nicknamed "The Watcher". Some of those pupils began to form a secret organisation to protect and preserve the Watcher (not that he asked for it).
Many owed him everything they had achieved and would repay that immense debt by any means, even if the Watcher did not demand it.
Years later...
The Watcher talked to the leader of a sect called the House of Black and White. The Sect Leader had praised him for being able to notice "a man" and explained that he had not come to grant a "gift".
The Sect Leader had come to ask him for a favour...
The "House of Black and White" wanted to send aspiring Faceless Men to face a test. It consisted of trying not to be noticed by the Watcher and to succeed in touching him.
He did not refuse and asked for nothing in return. This collaboration lasted for twenty years until a would-be assassin, frustrated by failure, tried unsuccessfully to attack The Watcher.
The secret organisation (which very few individuals knew about) returned the body of the poor would-be assassin, who failed to guess the test's true goal, to the House of Black and White.
To pass the test, an aspirant simply had to fail after trying every possible means and return to the Sect, knowing that the Faceless Men, even trained masterfully and with unique abilities, were not infallible...
The House of Black and White apologised to the noble and generous Master who had chosen to help and serve the Many-Faced God and the order that worshipped him without demanding anything in return. The Sect broke off their collaboration and offered, in return for their services, a promise that the Faceless Men would never, from that day forward, attempt to give the 'gift' to the Watcher (not that he had asked for it).
A short time later, the whisper of a certain "Watcher" reached the ears of the Iron Bank. A delegate from the bank reached the House of Black and White and asked for the "price" of this infamous "Watcher", who, if the rumours were true, would generate individuals of amazing abilities.
The answer was: "An institution should not ask. An institution should not seek trouble if it does not want trouble to come to it." The delegate walked out in shocked but uncomplaining silence...
The Iron Bank assembled a council of officials that day, and they discussed at length. Finally, some councillors proposed a possible future source of income... but a specific 'organisation' and 'someone' did not care.
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POV: Captain Tom (Helman Tallhart's right arm)
The Free City of Braavos.
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This was the fifth month in a row that Tom and his men had been searching for the ghost called the Watcher.
Not only had Tom paid and indebted the House that served ten thousand gold dragons for a piece of empty information at the Iron Bank, but all the leads he was following were total holes in the water. Nevertheless, this ghost, dubbed 'The Watcher', existed. The Titan's word was Iron. The Braavosians did not lie, but that individual was nowhere to be found...
The Captain had only two confirmed pieces of information:
[The Watcher is the best.]
[Never look for trouble with The Watcher.]
First, Tom and his men went to Volantis, then to Tyrosh, and then... after another whisper, paid for with heavy bags of gold, they took the Northmen to Pentos, where the only individual capable of tracking down the Watcher seemed to live. The decisive tip, plucked from the mouth of a peculiar and kindly old noblewoman of Pentos, finally came... Tom had to go back to bloody Braavos!
In the city, he and his men found lodgings in an inn.
That night Tom woke up startled and immobilised by a black, cloaked figure. His arms and legs were pinned by the latter's limbs...
"Why are you looking for the Watcher?" Asked the figure in a cold and irritated tone.
'I have no chance to react...' Tom thought instantly.
"... To ask him for help training our lord's son," Tom replied.
"Is that all?"
"Yes, that is all. I swear on my honour."
"I have no use for your honour. You're lucky your men gave the same answer!" *Sbam!* A single blow with the dagger handle on the temple... and Tom lost consciousness.
That night, fifteen men in an inn suddenly woke up and fainted, one after the other. Tom last...
The following day, visibly shaken and bruised men from the North found a message with an address and a specific hour...
*****
Around noon that same morning, at a villa in Braavos...
"Please, Captain Tom, have a seat. Would you like something to drink or eat? Are you sure you don't have any titles? Ser or...?" A thin man in his fifties asked.
"No, no, thank you, just Tom, please... I am just a humble captain in the service of Ser Helman Tallhart, the Master of Torrhen's Square." Replied Tom quickly. He was very uneasy and worried about the unexpected welcome.
"I'm not sure how I should address you... I don't know if I should call you... erm..." Tom was unsure whether to address the man as "Watcher".
"Ah, how careless of me! Yes, many people call me the Watcher. Not that I mind, but if you like, you can call me Zick or Master Zick if you feel more comfortable with the formalities." Zick replied politely.
"Yes, thank you, er... Master Zick, if you don't mind me asking... Why was I not searched at the entrance to the mansion? No one asked for my weapons."
"Ha ha! An understanding question.
I apologise again for what happened tonight and for not granting you an audience earlier...
Yes, that is... my fellow travellers have strange habits.
I swear I don't command them anything, but I also won't stop them from acting as they see fit. For instance, we could have had this conversation in Volantis or Tyrosh, but... they insisted," Zick pointed to a spot behind him behind the columns... Tom could see no one.
Then Zick continued.
"As for your question, well, I perceive no hostility from you, Captain Tom. Only unease, anxiety, disbelief, expectation and a great sense of responsibility.
Yes, I would say for that reason." Explained Zick.
"... Cough, Coff... I see...
Master Zick, I would like to ask you, if possible. No, I beg your pardon! My lord wishes to request you-" he was interrupted.
"Ah yes, that child, the heir Tallhart... A little genius, according to our friends. Promising...promising indeed...mmm...Yes, all right. I'll go North Westeros with you, Tom.
I've never actually been there. So I'll see what I can do with that boy, but I warn you I have personal conditions I'd like House Tallhart to respect."
'They have information about my lord! But... but how on earth...' Tom recovered swiftly from his state of shock.
"Ah! We are grateful and honoured that you have accepted! Of course, you will be our honoured guest for as long as you wish. And for the fee... Here, excuse me, what is your fee for your services?" Tom asked with a hint of concern and dazed at the bizarre conversation.
"Ah, nothing! Nothing for that, no need to pay, Tom.
I teach martial art for passion and personal pleasure.
The conditions are: my companions can come with us and receive the same hospitality extended to me. I may instruct the boy as I see fit, and my companions and I may leave freely and discontinue our services when it suits us.
If your master can comply with these three conditions, Captain Tom, we may depart in... Um... One moment, please... Ramas?"
A blink of an eye later...
"Yes, Master Zick. We have three ships ready to leave at any time. Moreover, a priest of R'hllor has assured us we will not encounter storms on the journey.
Furthermore, our scouts guarantee that the plotted course will encounter as little pirate activity as possible." Tom was frozen...
'Who is this man! And what kind of organisation is behind him?!' were questions he had repeated to himself hundreds of times.
"Well...Well, yes! House Tallhart has no objection and thanks you for your future services, Master Zick."
"Ha ha, well then! I'd say we're off, Tom."
******
End POV
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POV Duncan
Torrhen's Square.
Some forty days after a bizarre conversation...
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"So, Ser Qyburn. Where are we with the plans I requested?" I asked my ally.
"The first project is concluded, my lord.
The second, as much as it intrigues and stimulates me more and more, will still take some time, but I guarantee it will be concluded within the timeframe." Qyburn replied calmly and composedly.
"Excellent. Thank you again.
I know how arduous and extravagant my request was. Tell me if there is anything I can reward you with for your efforts." I replied.
"New 'subjects' for my research, if possible, my lord.
Your father has already funded my research sufficiently."
'I will see what can be done...' I replied.
'Mmm...some of those bandits who attacked the village a few months ago should still be hiding in these lands, ' I thought, remembering to mark this issue in my diary.
"My father?" I asked.
"The lord has taken your 'visions of a possible great war' seriously.
He preemptively calls up villagers and peasants to begin compulsory military training." I nodded, showing sufficient satisfaction.
A knock was heard at the door.
"Yes?" It was strange: usually, the guard announced the reason for the interruption.
The door opened, and a man very, very familiar to me entered with a big smile on his face.
"TOM!!!" I shouted, getting up to meet my 'second father'.
The man lowered himself to embrace me, which I returned wholeheartedly.
"My young lord, I apologise for the long wait." Said Tom slightly excitedly.
"Where the hell have you been venturing all this time! DAMN YOU!!!" I screamed in both joy and anger.
"All in good time, my young lord. First, there is someone you should meet. I recommend that you pay the highest respects and honours...
He will be your master-at-arms from here until the guest remains." So said Tom in a severe voice, staring intensely into my eyes for confirmation if I had grasped the message. I nodded in curiosity.
Two individuals, a man and a woman, entered the room and looked around for threats before stepping aside.
'A LEVEL 9 AND A FUCKING LEVEL 10?!' I shrieked inwardly before the real cannonball came.
The number marker above their heads was unnecessary. I sensed danger from every pore of my skin when I looked at those two.
And then he walked in...
A man with lightly tanned skin, in his fifties: grey hair, not very tall and wearing the clothes of an ordinary merchant, stepped forward and stared at me. Both our eyes widened.
Each looked at the other with a spark of shock, sharing a mute and unexpected surprise. The old monster showed more self-control than me, sporting a gentle, relaxed smile a few blinks later... But it was different for me.
"No, it's not possible! What the hell is going on! This doesn't make any sense!!!" A sense of extreme confusion swept over me at the contradictory message I was receiving.
In appearance and from what I could perceive, the man was even more physically defenceless than Qyburn himself!
I felt no sense of oppression or threat from the man, yet, a big, bright {13} floated above his head! And that was not the most shocking thing!
The eyes!
Those eyes were scanning and analysing every millimetre of my body. I felt naked and helpless! I couldn't hide anything (AND I MEAN ANYTHING!) from that man!
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Young Duncan of House Tallhart...
If I may ask, why do you wish to learn to fight?"
I remained for almost a minute in silence. Every alarm was screeching: {You cannot lie to this man!}
"Bec... Because..." I couldn't find the right words. My brain simply gave up trying to come up with an appropriate answer...
All I could do was spit out what came out of my belly.
"Because I want to try to make this World a better World!"
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End Chapter.
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