Subjugating the Game of Thrones

Chapter 4 Vanishing Vortex

In the castle of Storm's End, the master-at-arms, Gavin Wylde, a man in his thirties with a mane of voluminous brown hair, clad in boiled leather armor and riding breeches, was found standing at the edge of the stables, engaged in conversation with three fully armed knights. Their discourse ceased appropriately as Prince Renly arrived, accompanied by two companions and his personal servants.

"Good afternoon, Sir Gavin," Prince Renly greeted first. Whether it was an illusion or not, he felt a hint of wariness in the man's blue eyes as they regarded their group, and the knights nodded in acknowledgment before turning away.

Berie and Erion also offered their greetings to the master-at-arms, who responded politely and inquired about their purpose.

And so, the lanky youth spoke with impatience.

"We wish to learn the ways of the knighthood from you!"

Before a response could be given, the plump Erion interjected loudly, "And the heraldry, Master Craysen never told us about a coat of arms like yours, divided into four quarters!"

In truth, the old maester had taught them about such things, but he had never attended the lectures—this one had only studied with Prince Renly for a short while before feigning a headache and making his escape.

Prince Renly remained silent, as everything he wished to say had already been spoken. Thus, he said nothing at all, but looked up at the emblem embroidered on Master Wylde's chest.

Although a vassal to House Baratheon, unlike the servants, Gavin Wylde was of noble birth, and thus he could retain the Wylde family's and his own personal coat of arms—a golden field adorned with four large blue-green whirlpools.

"Knighthood? Heraldry?" The middle-aged master-at-arms rubbed his jaw, speaking evasively, "The rule is that you are only permitted to begin your knightly training after the age of seven, so lads, back you go from whence you came, for it is not yet the time. As for the coat of arms? Seven hells, this is the first time I've heard someone inquire about such a thing!"

His voice carried a hint of impatience, and he seemed ready to turn away, prompting Prince Renly to ask, "Then why is it you?"

"What?" The master-at-arms paused, looking down at him.

Although they were but children, he could not dismiss Prince Renly's question as he had the others.

"Master Craysen said that the master-at-arms who trains knights in the castle is usually an experienced old knight," Prince Renly said, blinking his eyes, his young face full of the innocence of childhood, "but you seem quite young."

"That is because I have personally defeated three of the experienced old knights you speak of!" The middle-aged master-at-arms replied with pride.

"Ser Theodas Swain of Stonehelm, Ser Morton Cullen of Nightingale, and the bastard Sedgek Storm of Bronzegate. They were all skilled, but my swordplay was superior!"

"I know the bastard Sedgek," the lanky youth said with amazement, "He once fought alone against three Dornish bandits on the Marches and killed them all. You actually defeated him?"

"He was a tough customer, but yes, I did," the master-at-arms waved his hand, a look of indifference on his face.

"How did you defeat him? I saw him at a tournament in Cinnamon Beach, he was..."

Prince Renly had tuned out their conversation, for being in close proximity to the middle-aged master-at-arms, the already strong unique scent became overpowering, especially when the man opened and closed his mouth while speaking.

This naturally intensified his desire to find out more, but having studied it for a long time without any clues, he now focused all his attention on his newly acquired ability—the way he looked up intently at the man's chest seemed as if he were listening intently.

At first, his gaze did not trigger any special circumstances, but after four or five seconds, the surroundings suddenly became somewhat illusory and hazy, even the voices of conversation seemed faint. It seemed that silently, a special passage was established between the coat of arms and Prince Renly.

And as this "passage" formed, the originally static whirlpool pattern began to change, subtly, the four whirlpools seemed to come alive, spinning towards the central separation point of the emblem, the blue-green colors mixed and churned, until all the colors that made up the whirlpools disappeared, leaving only a blank golden field where the emblem once was.

The conversation continued, with Berie Tandley, who aspired to be a knight, showing great interest in the middle-aged master-at-arms responsible for teaching martial arts in the castle, and asking questions incessantly.

Meanwhile, the plump Erion, not to be outdone, but being younger than Berie and perhaps not as interested in knights, naturally could not ask the profound questions he thought were deep, so he simply kept interjecting on the topic of the coat of arms.

"Why are they whirlpools?"

"Perhaps the gods in heaven know why, you must understand, lad, the Wylde family was an ancient house even before Aegon's Conquest."

"Why are there four whirlpools?"

"Because I am the fourth in line in my family."

"How did it get onto the clothes?"

"Well... with needle and thread? Or a wooden machine? That's about it. Lad, stop asking me such questions, do I look like a maester?"

"Could it have been painted on?"

"Painted on? How could that be possible!?"

"I heard the Dornish are very good at painting on clothes."

"The Dornish are also good at herding sheep." The master-at-arms snorted, then waved his hand.

"Alright, children, that's enough. You should understand, I am not an idle man."

He finished speaking and turned away, leaving two little ones stunned by his words, and a thoughtful black-haired boy.

"The Dornish actually herd sheep?" The plump boy stared at the back of the middle-aged master-at-arms, his face as if he had discovered a new continent.

Although he was still young, people in this world were generally precocious, and even if they did not fully understand some things, they knew a little bit.

"Why would they do that?"

"There are so many whys, the Dornish do everything, they can do anything." Tandley, whose fief was on the Stormlands border and neighbors with Dorne, had more say on the Dornish, and spoke with a face full of resentment and disdain.

Among the Seven Kingdoms (in the old days), the Stormlands and Dorne had always been hereditary enemies, and some nobles on the Stormlands border were at odds with Dorne.

In recent years, the two sides have eased, but in the past, especially when the Seven Kingdoms were not unified and were still six kingdoms, the tragedies that occurred on the border were countless.

It is not hard to imagine how they usually slander each other.

"Dorne is so hot, could there be sheep?" Prince Renly, who had regained his senses, kindly reminded his companions.

As he spoke, he couldn't help but yawn, making his voice a bit vague, but it did not prevent the two children from understanding what he was saying.

"Yeah, Dorne is a desert, there's no grass at all, what do sheep eat?" The plump boy came to his senses and looked at Berie with a suspicious look, as if questioning his pretense of knowledge just now.

"Well... who cares about such a boring question." The lanky youth blushed a bit. He hadn't really thought about it just now, and he started to pour dirty water on the Dornish subconsciously when he heard about them.

"And sheep have so much wool, standing on the sand, they would be hot to death." The plump boy kept entangled in this question.

"Maybe before they die, they would complain about their Dornish masters. Why did you raise me? Don't you know I don't eat sand? Are you deliberately——"

"Can you shut up?"

"Deliberately raising me in the sand to frame me?"

...

Children are talkative.

Prince Renly listened to their debate while leading the way towards the tower.

The master-at-arms was gone, and he naturally couldn't continue to watch, and perhaps because he had activated this ability several times in a short period, he felt a bit sleepy now.

But despite his attention always wanting to disperse, his body instinctively wanting to lie down and rest for a while, he still tried to concentrate on thinking about the phenomenon he had just seen, or the omen.

Four disappearing whirlpools?

Disappearing, or drilling out...

What does this mean?

Prince Renly kept thinking all the way, his little face wrinkled.

Although he did not achieve the goal he hoped to achieve, he was not disappointed—because there were no clues in many previous contacts, and he could treat this matter with a normal heart.

But it's not really without gains...

Thinking about everything he had seen before, and considering the current situation of the castle, a trace of doubt flashed in Prince Renly's eyes.

So when he returned to the