GOT : Battle Royale[ An ASOIAF Fanfiction]

"It, it," the groom stammered, looking in the direction Ian was pointing. "Oh, Ser, that's Lady Whent's own mount. She's a magnificent beast, a tall river horse crossbred with a Dornish Sand Steed, renowned for its endurance. They're twice as expensive as ordinary warhorses!"

To put it in perspective, a warhorse typically costs about twenty times that of a farm horse, ten times a draft horse, and three times a domestic horse. So, the horse Ian wished to borrow was roughly six times the value of the one he'd just left with them.

"This is precisely what I need, isn't it?" Ian chuckled. "You see, one can't go hunting without a fine horse. This time, I aim to win the favor of Miss Elano."

"Ser, oh, that's just not possible. I have no authority to make such a decision. I must consult the steward for matters like this," the groom quickly shook his head.

The groom's voice was perhaps a touch too loud, drawing the attention of a younger groom working at a manger on the other side. Hearing the commotion, the younger man quickly trotted over. He didn't speak immediately, simply looked between the two, as if trying to grasp the situation.

"I'm merely borrowing a horse, what's there to consult?" Ian frowned. "As for Lady Whent's mount? How old is Lady Whent? Can she even ride a horse anymore? Especially one this tall." At her age, Tomeko would fall off a bicycle; she still wants to ride a horse?

Of course 'this' Lady Whent can't ride a horse. Her last horse was never ridden by her from the moment it was chosen until it died of old age. But Lady Whent doesn't have to ride a horse. The stable is indispensable! This is the Harrenhal lord's card!

"I'm only borrowing it for a week. I'll return the horse immediately after the hunt. If there's any issue with the horse during this period, I'll compensate its original price. Haven't you heard the adage? A Lannister always pays his debts. Compensation will be given."

"Ser, please, don't put me in such a difficult position."

"Besides, isn't my own horse still with you?" Ian continued. "This horse has been with me for many years. You don't truly suspect I mean to taint your horse, do you?" Then you'd be guessing correctly.

"Alright, I won't press you further. You can report to the stable steward now. I'll wait for you here." Ian pulled out a gold dragon. "By the way, tell him this is my reward for borrowing the horse."

The younger groom, who had been silently observing, finally reacted and stepped forward to Ian.

"Ser, the steward isn't in Harrenhal at the moment. But I believe he'll surely agree once he learns you wish to borrow the horse. So, I'll take you to try the horse first, and we can report to him later," he said, offering a flattering smile to Ian.

The older groom looked at him doubtfully.

"Leave everything to me, father. Don't you worry about it," the young groom shook his head at his father.

Lady Whent is old and has no heirs. Harrenhal hasn't held tourneys or hunts in countless years, and the horses in this stable have barely been used.

Because the lord didn't care, the stable master hadn't even been able to leave to inspect the stables in years. Only he and his father worked here.

The knight will return the horse in a week. Who could possibly find out in such a short time?

As for Ser not returning the horse? How could that be? Lannister debts must be paid! Three-year-olds know this!

A gold dragon? What gold dragon? I merely wish to make things convenient for the knight. Whether it's a gold dragon or not doesn't matter!

"As you wish," Ian said, feigning indifference, though a wave of relief washed over him. If he'd truly forced the other man to find the stable manager, he might have had to give up on the white horse and settle for an ordinary warhorse.

While that wouldn't necessarily ruin his disguise as 'a certain Lord Lannister,' it wouldn't be quite as perfect.

Ian tossed the gold coin into the air, and the young groom swiftly caught it. After a careful inspection, he slipped it into his pocket.

"This way, Ser," the young groom said with a happy smile, pulling out Lady Whent's horse.

Because the horse had been handled and was quite docile, Ian, relying on his intermediate riding skills, managed to tame it—a horse with virtually no resistance—in just a minute.

"My old man," Ian, now seated atop the white horse, looked back at the older groom who was still wrestling with his thoughts. "I promise you, if I am fortunate enough to win the favor of the Lady Elanoor this time, and marry into Maiden Town to become its heir, I will invite you to Maiden Town and be the stable master, hahaha."

With that, Ian rode out of the stable.

The guards outside the door merely glanced at him, making way without any questions.

It wasn't until Ian vanished from their sight that one guard spoke, looking at his companion: "Did you feel like the knight got taller when he left?"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" His companion failed to grasp his meaning.

"No, it's nothing," the guard scratched his head. "It's probably just an illusion."

Of course, Ian was oblivious to the guard's doubts. He rode back to the inn where he'd started, bought two jugs of ale and a portion of dry food there, then left Harrenhal through the north gate and set off on his journey to Saltpan Town.

North of Harrenhal stretched a vast expanse of fertile farmland. It was precisely because of this rich land that the Lord of Harrenhal was once considered the wealthiest man in Westeros.

Were it not for the curse, this would undoubtedly be the most ideal fiefdom in all of Westeros.

After passing through winding streams and sun-drenched fields, Ian's eyes began to discern rolling hills and low bushes. He slowed his pace slightly, continuing toward the King's Road.

According to Ian's initial estimate, it would take him three days to reach Saltpan Town. However, with the change of horses, if he pushed hard, he could shorten the trip to a day and a half.

Of course, he wouldn't do that.

After all, even the most durable horse's endurance was nothing compared to his own explosive power.

A horse capable of forty kilometers per hour could indeed cover that distance in an hour, but it would only manage less than sixty kilometers in two hours. To cover one hundred kilometers would require five to seven hours, and that was for horses trained over a long period.

If this horse typically lived a relatively leisurely life, it would essentially be at the end of its strength here. Pushing it for another twenty kilometers might well kill it.

Though the horses in Lady Whent's stable possessed innate advantages in bloodline, ate the finest food, and received the best care, Ian dared not overestimate their actual capacity for strenuous exercise.

Therefore, Ian's best course of action was to let the horse trot at a steady ten kilometers per hour, ensuring adequate rest. His goal was to reach Saltpan Town before sunset tomorrow.

Saltpan Town was, after all, a port town, and its entirety wasn't enclosed within city walls. He wouldn't have to worry about being blocked by a city gate if he arrived in the middle of the night.

At noon, Ian rested for a while in the woods alongside the King's Road, eating a piece of white bread for lunch. During this break, he only used ale to moisten his throat twice.

He had no desire for alcohol to cloud his judgment in a world where conflict could erupt at any moment.

What? You ask him why he doesn't drink water?

In an era where boiling water before drinking wasn't customary, he'd much rather opt for this low-alcohol ale; at least he could be certain it was a clean liquid.

After his short break at noon, Ian resumed his journey.

Uninterested in admiring the passing scenery, Ian simply rode north in silence.

Suddenly, Ian sharply pulled the reins, his gaze fixed on the end of the road. "Where are we?" he murmured.