Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

In the Kingswood, south of the Crownlands, flows the Wendwater, which empties into Blackwater Bay from south to north.

Near the mouth of the Wendwater on the east bank is a nameless Beachhead Village. Over three hundred villagers live here, fishing and farming, paying taxes on time to the Knight sent by the Mallery family. Their lives are stable and peaceful.

But fourteen-year-old Quell was not content to stay in the village his whole life.

Sitting on a wrinkled and scarred rock at the top of the cliff, facing the white, surging waves below, Quell puffed out his chest and boasted.

"One day, I'll wear shiny white armor, ride a fine horse that's never plowed a field or carried grain, wield a steel sword forged in a castle, and be the best Knight there is!"

He turned his head, his eyes fixed on the girl beside him.

"I won't be like Old Knight John, who just rides around collecting rent and swindling coppers from us poor folk. There's going to be a war, and I'll go to the battlefield and fight with real swords and spears, and be a true Knight!"

Quell's face flushed slightly, but his dark skin hid the change. "If you ask me, only a true Knight is worthy of a girl like you, Jenny. What a beautiful name, just like Jenny in the stories, the one from Stony Sept."

The sea wind was strong, and Jenny kept running her fingers through her long brown hair, just smiling.

Quell gazed adoringly at the girl in his heart.

In the entire village, Jenny was the most sought-after girl. Men in their teens, twenties, and even those who were married, all took special care of her.

Every smile, every movement of hers was so charming, bringing the most beautiful color to the dull village, giving the boys the sweetest dreams, and making them wake up full of energy every day.

What Quell was most proud of was being able to ask Jenny out to be alone with him. That was unique.

Although Jenny hadn't accepted his courtship yet, just sitting here looking at the girl of his dreams, occasionally having her flowing brown hair brush against his cheek or the tip of his nose, was enough to make him happy for a whole week.

Quell was very confident.

Jenny's father had said that only a Knight was worthy of his beloved daughter. Whoever became a Knight first would marry Jenny.

The other boys in the village were cowards. They spent their days following the adults out to sea to fish or working in the fields, only knowing how to cast nets and drive plow horses. How could they fight with swords? Knight? They wouldn't even dare to think of it!

Although Quell himself was pretty much the same, he had a plan long ago.

Now was a good opportunity. Renly, the great lord of the Stormlands, had betrayed the King in King's Landing and was gathering men to seize the Iron Throne. The King would definitely need many, many people.

Quell had already decided to go north to King's Landing in a few days to serve the King.

The King was the master of the Seven Kingdoms and would surely defeat the great lord Renly from the south. By then, after fighting a few good battles and cutting off a few heads himself, becoming a Knight would be simple.

So many stories were like that, weren't they?

The Battle of the Ruby Ford, the Battle of Summerhall, the Dance of the Dragons, Ours is the Fury, how many people became famous in them, how many legends have been passed down since then.

Anyway, no one was looking after him. His uncle, who had taken the most care of him, had gone out to sea with a big ship a few days ago and probably wouldn't be back for a long time. He only needed to bring some dry food and could leave at any time.

Quell had told everyone about his decision, hoping to gain a few companions and show people how brave he was.

Unfortunately, neither goal was achieved.

The adults had no interest whatsoever, and even laughed heartily, their eyes full of scorn. A few of his companions were moved, but their parents dragged them back with a mix of hitting and scolding.

Quell was very confused. Everyone's reaction to the war seemed different from the stories.

Especially the older people.

As soon as they heard that Lord Renly had rebelled, the old people in the village were terrified. They spent all day looking out of the village, asking every passerby and merchant for news, as if they were afraid of being attacked by the army.

How could an army possibly care about a small place like Beachhead Village?

Quell was certain. How insignificant was Beachhead Village? It only had dealings with the neighboring villages and towns. Passing merchants were full of sorrowful faces, often complaining that they had come to the wrong place, couldn't collect any local products, and couldn't sell their goods.

Although Quell himself hadn't been to many distant places, he was already tired of everything in Beachhead Village.

It was too quiet here, like a fish tank. The surface of the water was completely still, and if you smelled it up close, it was fishy and smelly. The fish at the bottom lay half-dead, without any thoughts, just waiting to be picked out and killed.

Besides, he couldn't even be one of those fish.

Quell didn't understand much, but he knew that an orphan without adult support couldn't live a stable life in the village.

Quell had no farmland, no fishing boat, and no proper job.

The villagers all worked hard to fill their own bellies. Why would they hire someone to work? Only in big places was there a place for people like him.

But he hadn't had the opportunity before and could only muddle along in the village.

Without coppers, he could only wander around the beach all day, picking up scattered shells, crabs, and small fish, and then freeload a stove at various houses in the village to cook his food.

If he really had no food, he would stay at his uncle's house for a few days, enduring the刁难 of the woman who never had a good face, which was unavoidable.

This life was too difficult to bear. Fortunately, in the cold village, there was still Jenny.

Quell quietly moved his butt, getting a little closer, and then a little closer, to the girl he loved.

Jenny didn't despise him, this orphan. Her smile was his greatest comfort over the years, keeping him alive until now.

Even if it was just for her, Quell had to become a Knight.

Jenny finally spoke. "The wind is getting stronger. I should go back. Mother needs my help with something."

Quell quickly stood up. "I'll walk you."

Quell lived in an abandoned shack by the cliff, but he always insisted on walking Jenny home, to one of the dozens of houses in the village below, which was lively, had a barn, a fish tank, and was not drafty.

Seeing the combination of Quell and Jenny, the people along the way smiled annoyingly, even shouting things like "true Knight" and "pure Jenny."

Quell never paid attention to them.

When they reached the house in front of Jenny's, a tall, thin figure slowly walked out of the door. He turned and looked at Quell, his eyes cold and firm, as if he wasn't looking at a person, but something else entirely.

Quell knew him. This gray-haired old man in a worn wool robe was a wandering monk who had been in the village for several days.

Many children had sought out the old man again to get formal names, and some people came to confess their sins and ask for forgiveness.

Monks also presided over weddings. Quell had imagined the beautiful scene of his wedding with Jenny, but unfortunately, by then, this monk would probably be long gone.

Quell found it strange that the old monk had given so many people names, yet he only let people call him "Sparrow".

Sparrow, what a simple and ordinary word.

Buzz~

Suddenly, there was a chaotic noise at the entrance of the village.

Quell looked up.

The Sparrow prayed devoutly, "Mother, have mercy and bless this village, at least this one."

Quell looked at the Sparrow in confusion, not understanding why he was acting this way.

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