Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

For Bert, the past few months had been the most fulfilling and happiest of his life. He was deeply grateful to the House for selecting him to join Lord Tywin's secret army and equally thankful for being captured by Lynd—an event that had given him countless opportunities to apply his knowledge in ways he never imagined.

Although officially designated as Lynd's clerk, Bert's responsibilities had long since surpassed that role. In addition to his honorary title as an advisor on the reconstruction of Tumbleton, he now held two substantial positions: tax collector and dockmaster of Tumbleton Wharf.

Both roles carried real authority, but the position of dockmaster was particularly significant. It encompassed managing everything from the scheduling of cargo ships to the allocation of warehouse space. Over the past month, Bert had been stationed at the wharf full-time, rarely returning to the barracks.

"Is your cargo leaving the warehouse tomorrow? Have you found a ship yet? You'll be sharing a vessel with another shipment," Bert said, signing a shipping order without looking up. His tone was brisk, as he continued his routine questioning: "The Mander isn't the fastest-flowing river, but stay cautious. If your boat capsizes north of Bitterbridge, don't panic—just mark the location. We'll send someone along the river to retrieve your goods. Next!"

A merchant stepped forward, placing a small leather pouch on Bert's desk. The edges of silver stags gleamed through its folds. "I have a shipment bound for Highgarden that's urgent. Could you arrange a ship for me in advance? I'll offer you a little something extra."

Bert didn't bother glancing at the pouch. Instead, he picked it up and dropped it into a wooden box beside him. His voice was flat as he declared, "Bribery of an official, confiscation of bribe money, one day in the punishment cell, and a fine of ten silver stags. Guards!"

At Bert's call, two guards stationed behind him stepped forward, preparing to escort the merchant to the punishment cell in the ruined barracks. But the merchant wasn't ready to surrender. His own escorts moved forward, creating a tense standoff.

"I advise you not to resist," Bert said calmly, finally looking up from his paperwork to face the merchant. His tone shifted to surprise as his gaze settled on the man before him. "Father? Why are you here?"

The merchant was none other than Lys Falwell. Smiling, he replied, "It seems you're doing well for yourself."

Bert's face lit up with a smile but quickly reverted to its serious expression as a thought crossed his mind. He straightened up and said formally, "Ser Lys Falwell, your bribery violates the laws and regulations of Tumbleton. I must punish you according to the law. Please cooperate and do not resist." Turning to the guards, he added, "Take him to the punishment cell."

The soldiers hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Bert's voice sharpened. "Didn't you hear my order? Must I remind you of the military law issued by Ser Lynd?"

Reluctantly, the guards exchanged glances before stepping forward. Addressing Lys, they said, "Ser, please come with us. Don't resist."

Lys Falwell looked at his son with an expression of surprise, as if seeing someone unfamiliar. Then, with a faint smile, he raised a hand to signal his escorts to stand down. "Wait for me at the inn," he instructed them. Turning back to the guards, he said, "Lead the way."

With a composed demeanor, Lys followed the soldiers toward the ruined barracks.

At this moment, the merchants on the wharf, busy with their various tasks, fell silent. Their gazes shifted toward Bert, now tinged with a sense of awe.

Meanwhile, Lynd, Nymeria, and Jon were walking out of the barracks toward the docks. As they approached, Lys Falwell, escorted by guards, passed by them. Their paths briefly crossed, and Lynd and Nymeria gave Lys a cursory glance before looking away.

Having helped Nymeria draft Tumbleton's territorial regulations, Lynd was no stranger to such incidents. It was not the first time someone had been fined or confined for breaking the laws. They had no concerns about offending nobles—most of the merchants in Tumbleton were either commoners or agents purchasing goods on behalf of nobles, their lower status leaving them little room to resist the territory's laws.

More importantly, the regulations Lynd had established for Nymeria were far removed from the chaotic, arbitrary laws typical of the nobility. Tumbleton's laws were simple and boiled down to three offenses: bribery, fighting, and theft—essentially a local version of "three laws." Punishments were equally straightforward: fines for minor infractions and confinement for serious ones. Confinement didn't mean imprisonment in a dungeon but placement in a dark, cramped room that Lynd had prepared for cavalrymen and warriors who violated military rules. The experience was intentionally harsh, leaving a lasting impression on those punished.

These laws and practices were part of a broader experiment by Lynd, a test for his future territory. Tumbleton itself had become a trial ground for his governance strategies.

As the two groups passed each other, Jon casually glanced at the escorted Lys. At first, he didn't recognize him, assuming he was just another individual who had violated the laws. But after walking a few steps, realization dawned. He stopped abruptly, turned back to confirm, and froze.

"My lord, my lord!" Jon hurriedly caught up to Lynd and pointed toward the now-distant figure. "The person who was just escorted away by the guards is Ser Lys."

Lynd and Nymeria paused, exchanging surprised looks before turning their gazes toward the escorted Ser Lys. At that moment, Lys, as if sensing their attention, turned back as well. He gave them a small wave.

"Jon, go tell the guards to release him," Nymeria quickly instructed.

"Wait," Lynd interjected, halting Jon. "Is Bert at the docks right now?"

"Yes," Jon answered after a moment's thought. "He's been there the entire time."

Lynd considered this for a moment before responding, "Then leave it. We'll visit Ser Lys after he's finished the punishment."

Nymeria raised an eyebrow. "Won't this risk offending Ser Lys?"

Lynd shrugged nonchalantly. "If he's displeased, he can take it up with Bert. It's not us punishing him—it's his son."

Hearing this, Jon couldn't help but inwardly sympathize with his cousin. He could already imagine how furious his aunt's husband would be when he emerged from the punishment cell.

At this time, Ser Lys seemed to realize that neither Lynd nor Nymeria had any intention of releasing him. The smile on his face froze, and he resignedly followed the two guards into the barracks. He was led to a row of small black cells resembling toilets, where he was locked inside.

Since Ser Lys was already confined, Lynd and Nymeria saw no need to proceed to the dock. Lynd instructed Jon to inform Bert that they were aware of Ser Lys's detention. With that, Lynd and Nymeria returned to the office in the barracks to resume their unfinished work.

The following day, Ser Lys was released. Bert had taken the day off and waited outside the cell early in the morning. As soon as Ser Lys emerged, Bert escorted him back to the inn where he was staying. It was only in the afternoon that the father and son came to the barracks to meet with Lynd and Nymeria.

"My lady," Ser Lys greeted with a bow upon entering the office.

Nymeria returned a slight bow and corrected him, "Ser Lys, I still prefer to be called Lady Nymeria, not my lady."

Ser Lys smiled and turned to Lynd. "Ser Lynd, I've long heard of your reputation as the number one swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms," he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "I didn't expect that my first impression of you would not be of your famous swordsmanship but of another side of you. Do you know? You remind me of someone."

Hearing these familiar words, Lynd froze for a moment before laughing. "Ser, you're not referring to Lord Randyll Tarly, are you?"

Ser Lys appeared surprised and asked, "Could anyone else have said such a thing to you?"

"Lord Garlan Tyrell and Lord Vortimer Crane have said similar things," Lynd replied with interest. "Could it be that Lord Randyll Tarly and I really do resemble each other?"

Ser Lys smiled. "Not in appearance, but in certain actions, there is a shadow of similarity."

As the conversation between the two flowed smoothly, unaffected by the previous day's events, Bert, who had been tense since entering the room, finally let out a sigh of relief.

Ser Lys continued to chat with Nymeria for a while. During their conversation, he skillfully avoided mentioning Nymeria's rumored father, instead praising her mother. His sincere and respectful tone won Nymeria's favor, making her regard him as a trustworthy elder.

Lynd, however, watched Ser Lys with a peculiar expression. If he hadn't been certain of Ser Lys's identity, Lynd might have thought he was dealing with Littlefinger himself. Both men were masters of rhetoric, skilled in earning trust and lowering others' defenses through conversation. It was clear that Ser Lys's reputation as a prominent sea merchant in the Westerlands was well-earned.

However, Lynd also noted that Ser Lys was not among the influential figures in the years to come. It suggested that something significant must have occurred in the intervening time.

The meeting concluded with a successful negotiation. Ser Lys agreed to become the exclusive merchant for Lynd's army and Nymeria's Tumbleton. He promised to supply food, weapons, and other goods at prices below market value and even offered to help procure rare items. Additionally, he proposed attracting merchants to settle in Tumbleton and Lynd's future territory, contributing to its rapid development.

In return, Ser Lys requested that, unless he voluntarily relinquished the position, Lynd and Nymeria would not appoint another exclusive merchant.

While Lynd hesitated at this condition, Nymeria agreed without delay. Her decision was not influenced by Ser Lys's earlier flattery but rooted in the norms of the Seven Kingdoms. Among most lords, exclusive merchants were typically fixed and hereditary, much like noble titles. To her, Ser Lys's request was both reasonable and customary.

After careful consideration, Lynd found no disadvantages to Ser Lys's request and agreed.

The three of them then signed an Oath Contract. Since there was no Septon from the Faith of the Seven available, they settled for a Maester who had completed his travels and was preparing to return to the Citadel to act as the witness. Once each of them had received their copy of the contract, Ser Lys turned to Lynd and said, "I've already started working on the list you asked Master Mus to give me. Most items won't be a problem, but warhorses are proving a bit more difficult and may take more time."

"That's fine," Lynd replied calmly. "There's no rush. Take your time. If possible, see if you can find a warhorse suitable for Nymeria's build as well."

"A horse that suits Lady Nymeria's figure?" Ser Lys repeated, glancing at Nymeria.

Nymeria frowned slightly. Although her time with Lynd and the others had helped her grow accustomed to her unusually tall stature, being scrutinized still made her uncomfortable.

Ser Lys suddenly said, "I might know of a horse that could suit the Lady perfectly, but acquiring it might not be easy."

Lynd's curiosity was piqued. "Tell me," he urged.

Ser Lys paused, collecting his thoughts, before recounting the story. "Not long ago, I was in Sunspear and overheard people at a tavern talking about a herd of horses discovered in the mountains near Godsgrace. Among them was a wild horse, extraordinarily tall and magnificent. It's said to be much larger than an ordinary wild horse. Many horse hunters have tried to catch it, but all failed. The horse is very clever and often leads its pursuers into packs of wild beasts. Quite a few hunters met their end in those mountains."

As Ser Lys spoke, Lynd's interest grew, but Nymeria's expression darkened. Her aversion to things from Dorne was evident.

Lynd weighed the idea of traveling to Dorne to capture the horse but, after some thought, shook his head. "It would take too much time. I can't afford to be away that long," he said, turning to Nymeria. "I'm sorry, I can't help you catch that horse."

"That's okay," Nymeria replied with a smile, shaking her head. "The warhorse you gave me is already excellent. I don't need another."

As he observed the exchange, Ser Lys's expression shifted subtly. An inexplicable smile formed on his face, as though he had noticed something others might have missed.