Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The days after my first battle with the Black Vultures blurred into a grueling cycle of blood, sweat, and steel. Killing those bandits had been my first step into the world of a true sellsword, but it was only the beginning.

Garrett, our leader, wasted no time throwing me into the grind.

"If you want to survive in this life," he had said, his sharp eyes locking onto mine, "you need more than just a quick hand and a strong arm. You need discipline. You need instinct. You need to be ready to kill without hesitation."

So, I trained.

The Life of a Sellsword

Every morning, before dawn, the Black Vultures would spar with each other. It wasn't just a way to stay sharp—it was survival.

I fought men twice my size, veterans who had been swinging swords for longer than I had been alive. At first, I struggled. I was fast and agile, but my opponents were stronger, smarter, and far more ruthless.

Every spar left me bruised, sore, and exhausted. But I never gave up.

And slowly, I improved.

I learned how to move efficiently, how to read my opponent's stance, how to anticipate attacks before they happened.

Garrett had been right—raw skill wasn't enough. I had to be ruthless, calculating, and unyielding.

By the end of the first month, I was winning fights against men who had once outclassed me.

[System Notification]

✔ Daily Training Completed

✔ +1 Strength

✔ +1 Dexterity

✔ +1 Endurance

✔ Current Stats Updated

I could feel the changes in my body—I was faster, stronger, sharper. Every swing of my sword felt more natural, every step in battle more precise.

But training wasn't enough.

A sellsword only truly learned in the field.

Taking Jobs & Earning Gold

The Black Vultures weren't a noble army—they were mercenaries. We fought for gold, not honor.

Over the next few months, we took job after job, traveling across the Riverlands and the Crownlands, taking work from lords, merchants, and even criminals.

✔ Guarding Caravans: Escorting merchants through bandit-infested roads was easy coin—most bandits weren't stupid enough to fight a trained company.

✔ Hunting Down Outlaws: Some lord's bastard son turned to banditry? Some knight broke his vows and became a rogue? We tracked them down and put them to the sword.

✔ Debt Collection: More than once, I found myself breaking into homes, dragging some poor bastard out by his feet because he owed coin to the wrong man.

✔ Tavern Brawls & Dirty Work: Sometimes, nobles didn't want a war—they just wanted someone beaten, intimidated, or removed quietly. That was where sellswords came in.

Through every job, I honed my instincts, sharpened my reflexes, and grew more ruthless.

This world didn't reward mercy.

Only strength.

[System Notification]

✔ Multiple Combat Encounters Completed

✔ +2 Strength

✔ +2 Endurance

✔ Reputation Gained in the Black Vultures

The more I fought, the more respected I became. No longer was I just some rookie bastard sellsword—men were starting to notice my skills.

Garrett began trusting me with better jobs. Instead of being thrown into the front lines as fodder, I was being sent on smaller, more tactical missions.

I was climbing.

I was getting stronger.

And with every battle, every kill, every night of pleasure in a tavern after a job well done—I felt more alive than I ever had in my previous life.

A Name in the Making

One night, after returning from a particularly bloody job, Garrett sat beside me at the fire, watching as I cleaned my sword.

"You've got talent, Damon," he admitted.

I smirked, running a cloth along the blade, watching the firelight reflect off the steel. "Only just noticing?"

He chuckled. "You've earned your place. You fight well, you don't hesitate, and you're smart. Most green sellswords either get killed in their first battle or run when things get tough. You? You thrive in the fight."

I didn't respond immediately, but I felt a flicker of satisfaction.

He wasn't wrong.

I had come to Westeros with nothing but my knowledge and my system.

Now?

I had gold in my pouch, blood on my blade, and a reputation growing among the mercenaries.

But this was only the beginning.

"Keep going like this," Garrett continued, "and you might just carve out a name for yourself in this world."

I grinned, tossing the rag aside. "That's the plan."