65

Chapter 65: Ch 55 First Kill

Chapter Text

"No...It's humans." Jon replied nonchalantly while slurping the soup remaining in his bowl, but his words had the immediate effect of freezing Sam as all the excitement drained from his body.

Sam gathered himself a few seconds later and then hastened to tie the knots on his armour as fast as he could. He fumbled a few times but a minute later he was strapped and secure in the sturdy armour he had carried all the way from Winterfell.

His sweaty hands curled around the handle of the axe and the small shield as his eyes anxiously turned left and right to scout for the unknown assailants. While Sam had somewhat gotten used to fighting other people, that was only when he was in bouts with known friendly faces.

This would be the first time he could potentially have a life-and-death battle. Safe to say he was just an inch away from crapping his pants.

"Don't worry so much, Sam," Jon suddenly comforted after seeing Sam fidgeting like a deer, "We may not necessarily have to fight them... they could just be some friendly strangers coming for a talk."

But Sam wasn't naive enough to believe that...

They were in the middle of nowhere surrounded on all sides by tall yellow grass and Disputed Lands, one of the most dangerous places in Essos was just a day's ride away. The only way someone could stumble on them here would be if they were intentionally seeking them out after noticing the smoke from their fire... and people rarely seek strangers in the Essosi wilderness with good intentions.

But the false consolation nonetheless did its job of calming him and steadying his shaky grip. He just needed to remind himself that he would be safe as long Jon was here.

"H-How many are there?"

"Hmm... Four and a half," Jon answered after thinking for a few seconds.

"Four and a half?"

"You'll see," Jon shrugged but didn't explain any further, so Sam took a deep breath and stopped looking around. He knew that Jon would let him know as soon as they were close enough so he stilled his eyes and began counting in his head to pass the time and soothe his psyche.

On the other hand, having finished his meal, Jon too began to prepare. He put away all the utensils back into the luggage, so that they don't break, and began taking out his weapons to place them by the side of the rock he was sitting on. Now usually, he only carried a bastard sword and a bow as his main weapon but this time he had one extra thing prepared.

Since Jon didn't have any armour other than the sturdy leather jacket he was wearing, that was the only preparation he needed. So he took a small pointed dagger and a whetstone and began to sharpen it while sitting on the rock in front of the fire.

Sam had counted to about 200 when he finally heard the expected footsteps he was waiting for.

They were light enough that he wouldn't have heard them over the wind if he wasn't paying such close attention. The steps stopped just at the edge of the clearing out of their sight and then there was complete silence for a few seconds... before they suddenly heard a whisper.

"I... I think they already know about us..."

"Of course, they do," a voice replied snarkily and loudly, "Can't you see the fat boy sweating under his armour,"

Sam would have been normally offended at that if he wasn't so scared since he had really put in a lot of work and was now a lot skinnier than before.

"No point hiding then..." an aged voice calmly replied and the grass in front of them rustled and swayed as four adult men came out into the clearing carrying various arrays of smirks on their faces.

Of the four of them, two were middle-aged men in their forties, one was an old man pushing sixties and the last one seemed to be in his twenties. All of them carried a long sword at their waists except for the oldest one who had a spear in his hand and a bow on his back.

Their eyes and hair colourings were varied but all of them had sunburnt skin, unwashed hair, beat-up armour and well-worn weapons. All in all their appearance simply screamed sellswords. And each one of them had a similar marking of a helmet and a shield on their breasts.

"How may we help you, my friends," Jon calmly asked while looking up but he didn't get up from his seat nor did he stop sharpening the dagger in his hands, as if he was meeting them in an inn instead of in the wilderness.

The sellswords exchanged amused glances with each other at coming across such a young, stupid and naive target, before the youngest one of them replied arrogantly, "You can help us by leaving all your stuff behind and Fucking off!!" the man had a thick local accent but even Sam who wasn't so proficient in High Valariyan could clearly understand his intentions.

"Salov!" the oldest one with a smattering of white hair on his head rebuked gently while leaning on his spear, "You can't be so rude," he shook his head disappointedly at him before turning to Jon with a very fake smile, "I apologize for my friend here, you see he's a bit cranky because of his hunger since we haven't had a good meal in days... I am sure you understand..."

"Of course," Jon nodded with an understanding expression, "I would be ashamed to call myself Westerosi if I don't show you proper hospitality. Please, take a seat, I am sure we still have enough food for you to fill your stomach..."

But none of the sellswords moved to accept the offer and neither did they take their hands off their weapons, "Ah so you're from Westeros," the guy with the spear said in a surprised tone, "That's perfect. I have heard many times how people in Westeros are all very rich... and we just happen to be in somewhat of a pinch money-wise... You wouldn't mind also giving us your gold, would you?" he finished with an insincere smile.

"And... I want that sword of his," one of the middle-aged sellswords piped while pointing at the sword lying beside Jon.

"Fine. Then I want that fatso's axe and his armour too. God knows, I would make much better use of it considering how clean it is, I bet the boy's never even been in a fight." the youngest scoffed while adding in his two bits.

The sellswords wanted to loot them without putting in the work.

"My friends are very demanding," The oldest one continued with a fake apologetic smile when he saw an impassive expression on Jon's face, "But I am sure it shouldn't be much of a problem with your... generosity,"

Sam was nervously watching, hoping that it wouldn't end up in a disaster, but from the greed in the sellsword's eyes and the look on Jon's face, it was a hope in vain. As Sam was waiting for the stone to drop into the puddle, he suddenly heard a faint rustle of the grass behind the sellswords and looked up to find a head peeking out.

He was almost in despair at finding another enemy when Sam actually looked closely and realised that the new individual was maybe not a part of this group, at least not willingly.

First of all, he was too young, the boy barely looked sixteen or seventeen years old. He had blonde hair and striking blue eyes and he would have even looked pretty if not for the... condition he was in.

The boy was in bad shape, he had bruises all over his face and his body, his clothes were muddy and were torn here and there, and most importantly his hands were tied behind his back and he was completely barefoot, which was almost a death sentence in this wilderness unless you were a Dothraki. But even with the state he was in, there was still a defiant look on the boy's face as he looked into the clearing to see the exchange between Jon and his captors.

"I didn't know beggars were so brazen in Essos," Jon finally shot back with an amused smile on his face which froze the expression on the old man's face, "You're quite bad at begging, my friends. I think you should hit the city streets, you'll have much better luck there than out here."

"Ha ha, that is a very funny joke," the old man, who seemed to be the leader, said with a stiff smile, "But I could easily get offended by this... and you don't want that, do you?"

"Oh, I am sure I'll manage,"

"Argh! Enough of this farce, Uncle!" The youngest named Salov interrupted impatiently, "Let's just gut the pretty boy right here and be done with this."

The old man sighed, "You're too reckless, Salov. I was just hoping to make it simpler before we do..."

Jon ignored the sellswords for a moment and turned his head towards the teen prisoner with a curious look on his face, "And what about you, boy? Who are you?"

The boy was shocked to be suddenly called out and replied unconsciously, "I-I am Bran!"

"Are you with them?" Jon asked and suddenly he didn't know why but he got an urge to spread his mind to scout the mind of the boy and he was very thankful that he followed the urge because what he found in the boy shocked him.

"You're from the North!!" Jon stated rather than asking as while the boy had none of the typical looks of a Northerner, the makeup of his mind was telling him a completely different story.

The boy's eyes widened in shock, "H-How did you know—" Bran's question was interrupted with a harsh slap from Salov, the young sellsword, who was irritated at being ignored.

"Who gave you the fucking permission to come out and run your mouth, boy!" Salov asked, and then gave another slap, "Didn't I tell you to stay put, Huh?"

"Enough, Salov," The leader intervened half-heartedly when it looked like Salov would go on, "You already vented your anger on the boy's face earlier. If you slap him more, even his father wouldn't be able to recognise him. Who would we ransom him to then?"

"Who cares," Salov scoffed flippantly, "If not his father, then we can just find a slaver to sell him. The brat's pretty enough to still fetch us a good price," he mocked with a hint of envy.

"You're hopeless, boy," The old man shook his head helplessly, "But then again you're not wrong. But if we're going to sell him to a slaver anyway, then we may as well capture these two alive. We'll get a far better deal with all three in a package,"

"Oh! I can promise to leave them alive," Salov said with a malicious grin as all of them put their hands on their weapon while spreading out, "But they may lose a finger or two... you know I just can't stop myself when I get going."

"Just... don't ruin this one's face," the uncle advised while jerking his head towards Jon, "I think they'll pay a premium for him in Lys—"

"That's enough out of you," Jon abruptly cut him off, "Him! Him! And Him!" he said pointing towards the older three sellswords with the dagger in his hand, "Sam, I'll take the three of them so can you take care of the loudmouth one."

"I-I guess, but—"

"Excellent then—"

"HAHAHA!!" All four of the sellswords burst out laughing simultaneously at that. It took a while before the oldest one controlled his chuckles and was able to speak, "H-How are you so delusional boy? You think—"

That was the last thing the man said as he was abruptly cut off by a simple jerk of Jon's right hand. One moment the dagger was in Jon's right hand and in the next, it was buried deep into the left eye of the man who had been cackling just a moment ago.

"Hmm... seems the target training was useful..." Jon commented casually as he finally stood up from his seat while picking a sword with his left hand, but instead of the usual bastard sword, he decided to use another weapon this time. This new weapon was also technically a sword but it was much thinner with a pointed tip making it much more suited for stabbing rather than slashing.

The sellswords were still shell-shocked by the sudden death of their leader and it was only when he fell, headfirst into the ground like a puppet without his strings, did they managed to come out of their shock and react.

"Y-You Bastard!!"

"How dare you!!"

"I'll kill you!!"

Jon smoothly shifted his stance sideways making his body as small of a target as possible with his head facing the sellswords, he then beckoned the incensed mercenaries mockingly, "Come then, let us get this over with..."

"Argh!!"

All three of them attacked Jon simultaneously in their anger and instead of backing away like a normal person, he plunged straight into their midst giving them very little room to attack. Jon was weaving between the slashes of the sellswords, like a fish in water, he was constantly making them run into each other and leaving them disoriented as they tried not to attack their comrades.

And while Jon could easily handle the three of them on his own and even kill them. That wasn't his intention, otherwise, he would have bought out the bow instead of this new weapon.

"Sam! What are you waiting for!!"

"Y-Yes!!" Sam stammered a reply and after taking a deep breath, rushed straight for the youngest sellswords Jon had pointed towards with his axe raised to strike, "Ahh!!"

"Tsk!" Salov clicked his tongue irritatedly at the disruption but nonetheless backed away from Jon to take on Sam, "It doesn't matter I'll deal with you after I kill the fatso... if you're still alive by then—"

"I AM NOT FAT!!!" Sam roared as he attacked the young sellsword with a surprising amount of ferocity that almost took Salov off-guard before he managed to gather himself and started taking the boy seriously.

The initial exchanges were somewhat dangerous but before long Sam began to fall into the familiar rhythm that he had practised countless times every single day since he met Jon. His combat instincts took over and he began to attack and defend against the sellswords' attacks like a well-oiled machine, much to Salov's frustration.

"Argh! Just die already!"

On the other side, Jon was having a much easier time handling his opponents than Sam even though he was dealing with two much more older and experienced sellswords. Mostly because, while the two sellswords had good battle instincts and were overall good at coordinating with each other, their attack reeked of someone who's never had any kind of systematic training.

Their stances were all over the place and their attacks had a lack of intricacy and forethought put into them. Every single slash of theirs was straightforward and aimed to either kill or maim and while it could take down most amateurs, anyone who had trained under a good master at arms could easily neutralise them.

That is also why he decided to try the newest addition to his arsenal, the Braavosi sword in this fight. He wanted to try out the new techniques of water dance, that he had been trying to learn (steal) ever since he had set foot in Braavos, in a real battle. And what better place to practise a new technique than in front of two sellswords

Jon already considered himself quite a fast hand with the sword, of course, he was not quite yet at the level of the likes of Ser Barristan and Jamie Lannister, but he could definitely call his speed first tier. But it was only now, when he actually used the light thin sword of Braavos, that he comprehended how fast he could be.

He was swaying in and out of the attacks like a lithe cat. His right hand was always primed like a coiled snake and when he found an opening his sword sprung like a snake to poke holes in the bodies of his enemies. Only a few seconds into the battle, Jon could say with absolute certainty that the water dance was a far better style for him when dealing with lightly armed enemies than his usual Westersoi style of hacking and slashing.

Now, normally he wouldn't have been able to easily learn the water dance as it requires you not only to spend countless hours practising it like the other styles, but it also has very stringent requirements for the user's body.

Their body needs to be thin but strong, they need to be able to wield their sword as though it is part of the arm and to see with all their senses. And instead of the usual power muscles, they need an entirely different set that focuses more on speed, balance and grace, muscles that would improve their flexibility and allow them to move and react like a cat.

Jon's body was filled with a set of perfectly sculpted muscles rippling with power, they were the result of almost a decade of hard exercise and a regulated diet to compress the maximum power and speed possible. It would be astronomically foolish of him to discard all that to train anew for this water dance.

Thankfully even without a compatible body, Jon was still able to find a workaround and adequately use the Water Dance by relying on the one skill that he had been perfecting since he was three years old. The skill to use his mind to predict, to have foresight into the opponent's attack before they execute them.

The water dance required you to be as fast as the wind and intuitively move your body unnaturally to dodge enemy weapons and poke holes in your opponent's vulnerabilities. Jon could simply circumvent this by shifting his body preemptively into a proper stance before the opponent even makes a move.

The benefits of the Water Dance were clearly visible only a minute into the battle as the two sellswords were already bleeding all over from small holes made by the slender sword. Jon specially targeted joints like their elbows and their hands, making them all the more sluggish and close to death.

The sellswords were deeply regretting their decision to fight and were cursing their now-dead leader for getting them into this decision. They were not even trying to put on a fight now and were just looking for a chance to back off and run away. But, unfortunately for them, Jon didn't have any intention to let them run away and was forcefully keeping them locked in a battle with him.

From the very beginning of the fight, Jon had kept more than half of his attention on Sam's side of the battle to make sure that nothing went wrong there. And while he himself may not be quick enough to help him in case Sam is in any kind of danger. His friend, Forst, flying up in the sky could easily help him in a pinch with her swiftness.

But what really surprised Jon was how well Sam was actually holding on, in fact, he was doing more than just holding on, he was defending when he needed to and even attacking whenever there was a chance.

The young sellsword named Salov was sporting an ugly look on his face and already had a few deep gashes over his body courtesy of the axe in Sam's hand. And it wasn't like the sellsword didn't have a chance to cut the boy back, because he did but it's just that unlike him, the boy had armour and a shield in his hands, which was too unfair.

And while Jon could see that Sam was doing good, he could also notice that he wasn't landing a decisive strike even though he already had few chances to. Which was annoying but understandable considering his age and inexperience.

Jon knew that Sam would eventually win the bout, either due to the stamina or the injuries, but he wasn't satisfied with a pyrrhic victory like that as it would make this unnecessarily prolonged fight useless. So Jon decided to...meddle.

The next time Jon saw Sam about to falter and waste an opening to end the battle, he immediately intervened.

"Sam!! Downwards Slash! NOW!!" Jon's thunderous voice was like an unquestionable command and Sam whose body had been heavily conditioned to follow Jon's voice during their bouts, executed it instinctively.

His hand didn't even hesitate and the axe flicked across the familiar trajectory to deposit itself straight into the jugular of the surprised sellsword. Both the sellsword and Sam had an equal amount of disbelief in their eyes at the sudden end of their fight before Salov gurgled something like, "M-My Father—Ugh" and fell to the ground with deep regrets in his eyes.

Seeing Salov getting killed, the two sellswords knew that they were next and tried to plead.

"Wait!! Don't—"

But Jon didn't care to listen to their begging and killed both of them without wasting any more time. A simple quick stab to an eye and the neck did the trick. Jon was sheathing his sword and moving towards Sam before their bodies even fell.

"Are you fine, Sam,"

"Hoooh, Hoooh..." Sam nodded and then shook his head as an answer. He was kneeling on the ground and breathing and heaving as if he was about to vomit. His eyes were wide with panic as they stared towards the face of the sellsword he killed. It was easy to see that he was in shock over the first human life he had taken.

"It's fine, Sam. He wasn't a good person. You did nothing wrong..." Jon murmured while obstructing the boy's view of the body so that it wouldn't give him nightmares. Jon knew it was a cruel and unpleasant thing to do especially considering his age but it was an unpleasant world so it would have happened sooner or later. And it was far better for it to have happened in a controlled environment with him nearby than with him alone during a dangerous battle.

A few minutes later, after Sam had calmed down enough to drink some water, Jon finally stood up and turned towards the last member of the group who was still alive.

The blond teen was slowly trying to sneak away when Jon called him with a smile, "Now, Now. don't be scared. I just want to know, who you are and Where you are from?"