Chapter 13: Service

Chapter 13: Service

~o~

I pulled the reigns on my horse, letting my ride settle down. Up upon that hill in the distance, across the fields of flower, was a castle that stood as the peak of what a beautified castle should look like, if the owner had enough servants to clean it every week. A white castle with walls that stretched around the hill, cover the heraldry of House Tyrell. As I stared at the castle of Highgarden, I couldn't help but take a deep breath of the scented air. In all rights, I should be impressed by the sight, but I was concerned with something different.

I have always talked about youth. In particular, the illusion and falsehood of youth, but even then, that is simply one facet of the multi-faced lie that is youth. Like the snakes on a Gorgon's head, each infused with a different venom, it has many different aspects in mirror images, but each has their own unique claws that latch on and inflict their own wound that will carry on beyond the boundaries.

The boundaries that define adulthood.

Youth is a separation, a term meant to give a reason to the inexplicable line between being young and being an adult. If that is so, then when does one graduate from a juvenile delinquent into a delinquent? Or rather, when do they transform into a gangster? Mobster? Yakuza? Politician? Youth is that indiscriminate line between going to juvenile detention for a couple of years and going to jail for a couple of decades. Oh, he punched him and broke his jaw? That's youth; give him a suspension. Wait, he's actually one year older and counts as an adult? Let's sue for money and jail-time! Indeed, youth is that excuse where you get a slap on the wrist instead of a slap on your face. It ill-prepares you for the truth about life.

Of course, in this case, the person in question was given a promotion instead.

Which person was I talking about? It was the one riding besides me on a horse, towering over me like a colossus despite being seated on separate horses and him being only a year older than me. This was my newest subordinate, ordered unto me by Tywin. He was a boy that was as tall and as big as university sports athlete with a frown so engraved on his face that it was like he was born with it. Even the armor that was fitted on him was adult-sized and the longsword was as well, though he wasn't wearing a helmet.

His name was Gregor Clegane. Just from appearance alone, you would think that he would be the boss of regional delinquents that have conquered a greater part of Tokyo, but that was first-time snap judgment; it stood to reason that his personality could be different. Of course, after getting to know him, I found out that he was as much of a thug as he looked. This was the type of person that you wouldn't want to meet in a back alley because you would know that you would be ending up in the hospital without your pocket change. Even the air around him was threatening, such that I unconsciously shrank from him even as he kept his place beside me.

If he wasn't a delinquent, he could probably join the Student Council of Honnoji Academy and receive a Three-Star Goku Uniform. That was just how ingrained his angry expression seemed to be on his face, even at rest—and that wasn't even mentioning his height and weight. If I did mention it, I felt like I would have to prepare for a future where he would become the Disciplinary Committee Chair, stepping through doors where he could barely fit to dispense school-oriented justice—okay, that was enough of that.

So why was he here? I wasn't so stupid to think that there was no reason. Before I had left Oldtown, I had noticed a new set of chainmail on my dresser. Not only that, but I couldn't find the set of clothes that I was wearing before. At the time, I hadn't really paid attention, but it seemed like when the maids washed my clothes, they found the slit made by Totsuka's knife. Tywin hadn't mentioned anything about it, though this arrangement made it obvious that he knew. Well, technically, it made it more obvious. The first sign of it was actually when it was announced that we would be making a departure only a couple of days later after I met Totsuka, not to mention the subtle increase of guards that seemed to walk by me a little too often. It made sense; Oldtown was a stronghold of the Faith of the Seven. As I was practically the chief spokesman of the Red Faith in Westeros, it was very much possible that they would try to assassinate me. For that reason, I wasn't able to talk with Totsuka more, not without bring their attention to her, and I didn't want them to the Lannister soldiers to investigate further since she technically was my failure of an assassin.

After the initial handover of technology—specifically on how to make paper—I hadn't really had any more meetings with the higher ups in the Citadel. I was told that I would be welcomed as a friend to the citadel, but I didn't really ask for any more meetings, and they didn't either. There were plenty of maesters on the ground floor that wanted to say thanks or talk to me personally, but I rejected all of them. I didn't really want to have to sit through more platitude, even though I technically had more time than I could ever use. I had done it for a purpose, and that was that. Though, there was apparently this Dornish maester who nearly snuck in to the tower to see me, but he was caught and brought back to the Citadel for punishment. All I did was hand over information on how to make paper with cheaper materials than animal skin, yet it seemed like I had a fanclub now. The fact that my fanclub consisted of balding old men didn't really fill me with much enthusiasm.

After that, we visited a few minor Houses along the coastline. We didn't stay at any of them for very long, but there were quite a few of them. Not only that, but they all seemed to have unattached daughters that they wanted to offload onto me through any means possible. Of course, with my increased guards, there were no nighttime crawlings, but when you had girls far older—and younger—than me trying to do that, it got more than a little creepy.

Now, you might thinking: "Do you have so many girls after you that you would refuse a girl crawling into your bed?" Well, technically, yes, I did have that many girls after me, but that wasn't the point. They were all doing it for political or financial reasons. Having your daughter marry not just into the Lannister House but to the heir apparent was something that was well worth killing for. Forget killing, it was well worth massacring for.

Now, you might also be thinking: "Why not just have some fun with them?" That was a bad way of thinking. Putting aside the fact that marriage was until death here, this wasn't like the modern world; there was no form of contraceptive except some weird herbal drink they had to abort a pregnancy in progress. A herbal drink with known side effects that could ruin her future permanently thereafter. The alternative was letting her give birth to a fatherless child and letting that child be called a bastard for the rest of his or her life. In Westeros, they even had specific last names for bastards. The status of a bastard was something that was constantly in flux, but it didn't tend to be well-thought of, even those accepted by whatever noble house sired them. Could I leave a child behind like that? Maybe, but I was smart enough to know that the guilt would follow me around for the rest of my life. I had enough traumas haunting me already.

By the time we arrived at the territory of House Tyrell, a speedy procession had also arrived on the land route from the Westerlands. A group of men-at-arms under House Clegane that carried with them one Gregor Clegane. Well, not carried since the apparent teenager rode on a horse. In fact, despite being the only teenager with them, he had looked more the part of the knight than the rest of the men from House Clegane; while he was suited in metal armor, the rest of his entourage of older men had worn only leather armor with scatterings of metal plates. They met us at the harbor, along with an escort of Tyrell's guardsmen.

And that was why I was standing here, on the path that led up the hillside to Highgarden, a castle that sat on the banks of the river Mandor and surrounded by white stone wall defenses that would have made it difficult to assault. Nowhere as close to as hard to assault as Casterly Rock, but it was enough. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that the architecture and the white stones it was composed of made it seemed more like a fantasy castle than anything else, the type that elves or King Arthur would live in.

Should I call it Camelot? Will I see the black knight Berserker in there?

"Lord Hachi." Gregor's voice was deep, deeper than it had any right to be considering his age, such that it felt like an older man was speaking to me.

"Right…" I gave a small nod as I began walking up the hill again. While I wanted to take in the sight a bit more, I felt like it would be wrong to keep people waiting simply on me. If I had given the word, they would have simply waited, but it wasn't something that I felt was too important in any case. I wasn't really the type to care about sightseeing in the first place.

If there was one thing I remembered from my past life, it was the fact that many people who exhausted themselves at black companies, grinding all the way down to their bones in an effort to make and save money for the future, would almost always want to travel and see the world in their later years. To me, that felt pointless. Why bother traveling when there was only two things that they would do anyways: sightsee and eat. That was it. There was nothing else really. Would you really just randomly stop one of the inhabitants of the city just to chat them up? They would more than likely brush you off so they could head off to complete whatever business they needed to do.

Since that was case, you could always just sightsee by looking at pictures or videos. That would be a similar experience or maybe an even better one since those images—especially the professional ones—were more ideal than reality. Even a painting or a drawing could provide a better sight than reality. For food, just look up a recipe and make the dish yourself. It wouldn't be exactly the same, but it would be close enough that you wouldn't have to spend millions of yen just to travel there and get the same dining experience. It was pointless. It was a waste. In fact, you could get the gist of it from reading a manga. Why bother with it in the first place when it would never reach the ideal?

As I stared at the white stone that made up the castle's walls and ramparts, I couldn't help but think about how much money they must have spent to keep those walls clean. After all, it was easy to make white look dirty. There was a reason many simply opted for standard gray stones; it was harder to see all the dirt on it. Not to mention, it was far cheaper in price too, both in its creation and its maintenance.

"Lord Hachi," Gregor said, interrupting my thoughts. "Your lord father calls for you."

"Did he say why?"

"No." His word came slow and his voice was thick with barely restrained disdain. The disgruntled expression on his face showed that he felt that being a messenger—even though he had been by my side the entire time—was beneath him. Or maybe he thought simply being here was beneath him. If that was the case… Well, I didn't really want him to be here either. From the brief time I had spent with him, this was hardly the place he wanted to be in, and I was hardly the person he wanted to talk to.

"If you don't want to be here, you don't have to." Even though the squire was supposed to be my subordinate, it was pointless to keep someone on who was obviously unmotivated. It would just be more hassle than it was worth, for both of us.

His face twisted into what seemed like a grimace, but he quickly bowed his head, perhaps to hide it.

"My lord." His voice took an almost placating tone to it. "My place is here."

"Is it? Why are you here?"

"To serve you, my lord."

"I have no need for a servant. He wouldn't call you here just for that," I said. "My father, Tywin Lannister, chose you to stay beside me. Out of everyone else he could have chosen, he chose you. That means that you, in the very least, are loyal to House Lannister. But I don't need a servant. I don't need a slave. What I need is talent. What is your talent?"

Gregor raised his head, such that his eyes locked onto mind. That act, in itself, was not subservient. I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but it did show some initiative. Which was actually a bit hypocritical since I wouldn't be able to do the same if I was in his position.

"Killing."

That was one scary talent, but the answer wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Even then, I wasn't sure if I could take his words at face value, considering the fact that "killing" wasn't exactly an answer that anyone besides the most arrogant or the most stupid would give, especially since I didn't see any glow in his eyes that showed that he had the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Did he think he was Golgo 13? I really couldn't imagine him sneaking around in full plate armor, assassinating targets from the shadows with wit and finesse.

"Okay, we'll talk about this later. Stay here. I'll see what my father has to say."

Leaving the tall squire behind, I rode my horse up the procession that was heading up the path to the castle. The three ships were anchored in the river, at a port that seemed like it wasn't made to accommodate ships of that size, let alone three. From them, even from here, I could see people filtering out of the ships, carrying gifts and supplies as they placed them in wagons that would soon join the procession that was making their way to Highgarden. Though, I turned my attention back to driving the horse up the path; I wasn't so skilled at horse-riding that I could afford to split my attention. It wasn't long before I saw Tywin waiting on his horse with a relatively small group of bodyguards around him. None of them stopped me as I rode my horse up to him.

"Father."

"Hachi." Tywin turned his horse back to the path and started a slow trot. "Ride with me."

I nodded my head as I joined beside him. As we made our way up the path, the people we passed bowed their heads at our passing.

"A match will be found for you here, one that matches your status," Tywin said. "Your witch is not to step one foot off the ship. Do not sabotage my efforts."

"Was there any offers from House Hightower?" I hadn't asked before since I assumed there was none, but now that the prospect of marriage was closing in, I was holding onto a small hope that Totsuka might have changed her mind. "Weren't you just given a letter that came from them?" When we had arrived on the beaches, there had been a bird mail awaiting us that had been sent from House Hightower to Highgarden. As I had been in my brooding following Totsuka's rejection, I hadn't bothered to pay attention to what marriage offers I had gotten from Totsuka's sisters. Not that I planned to take up any of the offers.

"None."

…not even the fainting girl? I had expected that Totsuka wouldn't be in there—despite one last lingering shred of hope—but there had to be at least one. The girl had practically shouted out her intent when he was there. The fact that there wasn't could only have been the doing of the Lord of House Hightower. Despite that dinner party they threw, they had no intentions of letting any of their daughters marry into House Lannister. It was a bit strange considering how progressive their marriage policy was, but it probably had to do with House Lannister's reputation or maybe my own. There was enough bad rumors floating around about me anyways, especially since I was connected to the Red Faith. It looked like the Totsuka route was permanently closed off now. Maybe I could have done something, but it was too late now that I was near Highgarden instead of Oldtown.

"I see." Deflated as I was, I tried to keep it out of my voice. I wasn't sure if I succeeded or not. "Was this how your own marriage was arranged?"

"No." He paused for a moment. "My marriage to your mother was a necessity. With your grandfather having bungled his management of the Westerlands, a strategic marriage that would tie up the internal conflicts that mar our land was needed." He looked pensive for a moment. "I eventually came to love her, and in time, you will come to cherish your own match."

Those words were of little comfort and too optimistic to me. Being at the bottom where I couldn't get a relationship even if I wanted to and being at the top where the choice was out of my hand were both extremes that were more than a little off-putting. Well, if I had a choice, I would choose the top rather the bottom. Still, considering my relationship with Tywin, I should still have some say over the matter. I doubted he would choose anyone who I vehemently object to, but if worst came to worst, I still had some cards up my sleeve. Not trap cards, but options nonetheless.

"How is your newest companion?" As if having sensed the topic was too heavy, Tywin changed the subject.

"He's difficult to deal with," I said. "Why did you assign him to me?"

"I have given you ample time and opportunity to make friends and connections with the nobility. You did not," he said. "Having participated in so many dinner parties, you have shown no intention of simple politeness."

"That's not true…" My mumbles came under my breath.

"Name a single friend of noble blood, unrelated to our ancestry."

I couldn't really open my mouth. The closest I could think of was Rhaegar, but he was more of an acquaintance than anything else, like a classmate who would greet you every once in a while. Not that I would know that feeling.

"If you cannot mingle with noble society, you must make relationships with the knighthood." Tywin turned his head slightly, sending an unnerving glance my way. "You are a capable strategist and tactician, but if you do not have a repertoire with the knights under your command, you will not be able to display your full military might."

"And Gregor is that connection?"

"No." Tywin scoffed. "He is merely a squire, someone for you to practice on."

The fact that he thought that I had to practice having friends was more than a little hard to swallow.

"He is more beast than boy," he said. "A mad hound who brings harm to those around him."

"Are you trying to wish bad luck on me?"

"I expect you to leash him." Tywin threw me another unnerving stare. "A hound is a tool, and his potential as a tool is significant enough to warrant your attention. I had made it unduly clear to him the consequences of disobedience."

"It seems you already did half my work for me."

"Get to know him. Find out his strengths and weaknesses, and bring him to heel," he said, as if he didn't hear anything I was saying.

"That's not so much a friendship as it is blackmail."

"He is not here for you to make friends with. Your goal is create a connection, not extend the hand of friendship," Tywin said with disdain in his voice. "You are his liege, and he is your vassal. Do not forget that."

"Yes, father."

"Bring him under control. I expect nothing less from you."

"And if I fail?"

"You won't," Tywin said with absolute confidence. "You are my son and heir, the future of our dynasty."

"Even a god can fail at times." If Zaimokuza was any reference, then that would be a lot of times.

"Then you must surpass the gods." He turned to gaze upon the castle. "You need the opportunity to show your worth. A daughter of the Tyrell—an adherent of the Seven—will do well to settle the religious disputes garnered by your public support of the Red Faith. It will also provide us with close ties to the Reach, a land filled to an abundance in food and men. The gold provided by their meats, fruits, and vegetables are frivolously spent on beautification rather than fortification. You would do well to learn not to follow suit."

"They're counting on their people to support them." The Reach could be said to be the most desirable of lands to live on. That was because the weather was mild, food was abundant, and chivalry was still alive here. In the Reach, even wandering knights would attempt to protect the innocent here, partially from peer pressure of the knightly society if they didn't; they had a reputation to keep up, even if they didn't necessarily believe in it.

"A great many would join their cause if they raise a call to arms. Ill-trained and idealistic to the point of naivety, but bodies nonetheless to push forth the tide."

A human wave tactic. While it could be effective, the amount of lives that would be lost made me uncomfortable with the thought. If they had been equipped with some kind of explosive to act as suicide bombers, that would be massively devastating. However, with just pitchforks, scythes, or dull swords? They would be massacred easily by a well-armored battalion or cavalry on the open field. Off the open field? Well, urban or guerrilla warfare was a wholly different matter, where the victor couldn't easily be decided. The amount of suffering and collateral damage it would cause didn't even need to be said.

"Just having manpower won't be enough."

"I'm well aware," Tywin said. "Your games portray House Tyrell well. The support and supplies that the Reach can provide could help the Westerlands prosper, should an agreement be made. An agreement that will be cemented by marriage."

"I know, I know," I said exasperatedly. It seemed like every chance he got, he had to pound into me how important this marriage agreement would be. Alliance, trade deals, getting the religious zealots off my back. The Reach was second in wealth compared to the Westerlands, but it was first in manpower and farming. In comparison to the other regions, there were plenty of benefits to be had.

If I had to categorize the various regions, it would probably be like this:

The Westerlands was the tyrant's fist, crushing dissent with an iron gauntlet and a fistful of gold. If there was ever a region that fits the theme of an evil overlord, then this would be it. Too bad it didn't have a Great Tomb of Nazarick for me to inherit.

The Reach was the populist regime, feeding the continent and encouraging the advancement of artistic culture. If there was any that vied for best tourist attraction of Westeros, it was the Reach. Basically, they were the equivalent of Tokyo Disneyland.

The North was the hardy Nordic barbarians, priding themselves on living in the cold and possibly wrestling bears with their bare hands and chest. Probably thought they were better than everyone else because they are on the frontlines with the wildlings. That was usually the attitude frontliners would take. Possibly the homeland of the Dragonborn. A marriage here would give me direct access to the Wall.

The Riverlands was the region of warlords, each with their own war-torn territory and conflict. That was what happens when their land was on the frontline in any conflict between the different regions of Westeros. Any solidarity that could be had would be ravished by the civil war, and then they would be left with the devastated aftermath again and again. If this was the modern world, they would be on the international news everyday with the United Nations intervening every so often. A marriage here would account for almost nothing except maybe facilitate trade routes across the continent. They were, after all, in the middle of everything.

The Stormlands was the alliance of scattered states, held together by nothing more than a simple agreement. Probably pledged over a mug of ale and punch or two from a bar brawl. They never really had a close relationship with each other, viewing it more as duty than anything else. Or at least, that was what they made it seem like. Always itching for a fight, they were probably hoping for something like the Horde to arrive, not that I think they could handle orcs or anything of that nature. Not much to gain from a marriage here, not unless I could make Shipbreaker Bay safe somehow.

Dorne was the separatist region, composed and held together by their shared ethnic difference from the rest of the continent. Their culture, fighting style, and even their love relationships were wholly different, and they keep their difference through the separation provided by distance. It was like Okinawa. A marriage here would facilitate trade routes with the eastern continent, but this was already a burnt bridge and an example of why not to trust "nice" girls.

The Iron Islands was the pirate nation. Unlike what pirate nation would usually imply—a conglomerate of different pirate captains banding together for a safe haven—it was actually entire islands of people that were born into a culture that praised piracy as the greatest thing in the world. Murder, looting, raping were viewed more like virtues than sins. They certainly weren't looking for the One Piece. A marriage here, if I could stomach everything they did, would allow access to the iron mines.

The Crownland was the heart of the continent, the Shogun who had little actual power and authority besides that which was provided by tradition. Corrupt, scheming, vile. If Tywin's words were to go by, and he had been the Hand of the King for a long time, then this place was about as messy and corrupt as what you would expect of an ill-managed government. If there was any place that could benefit from a band of vigilantes, then this would be the place. A marriage here would not only provide a connection to the Iron Throne, but it would also give access to the obsidian buried underneath Dragonstone even if I still probably have to pay "taxes" for it.

So, out of all these different regions, which would be the most enticing? Obviously, it would be Tokyo Disneyland. Or possibly the Icelands. Maintaining a food supplies would be essential to weathering through an assault by the Others, but having access to the Wall would allow me to fortify it in preparation. Of course, convincing Tywin that the importance of the North was easier said than done. So, for marriage contracts, there really was only one choice left…

"I expect you to be on your best behavior," Tywin said. "I've overlooked your inadequacies at the previous houses, and I do not expect you to manage people like your sister. However, I expect a modicum of effort in this endeavor, lest you put a stain on the Lannister name."

"Yes, father."

"Good." He reached over and laid a rough hand on my shoulder. "Even if I were to die tomorrow and be buried with your mother, I'd be able to rest assured that you'd carry on my legacy."

"If that were to happen, then the oppressed elements would rise up." It was easy to see that Tywin ruled through a force of personality. That also meant that once he fell, his successor would be hard-put to keep the region together. Just like how Alexander the Great's empire fell apart after he died. Though, my knowledge of history was a little faulty since most of it came from a certain hero summoning simulator. King Arthur can't be this cute!

"Conflict is good. I secured my own position by crushing the rebellion of House Reyne and House Tarbeck." He looked pensive for a moment. "With the Targaryens in power, there hasn't been a true conflict between the Seven Kingdoms in ages. Even with civil wars and invasions, the borders of each region have remain fairly stagnant. As such, the other Kingdoms will not directly interfere in our affairs." He let go of my shoulder as we continued have our horses trot forward. "Every once in a while, it is necessary to clean up the internal conflicts to remind the rabble. I have no doubt that you will secure your position and bring such prestige to the Lannister name that it will be remembered in a thousand years, alongside that of Lann the Clever."

I nodded my head, even though I didn't really feel the same. I had read too many stories and seen too many anime about descendants somewhere down the line ruining their family name. Who could say that there wouldn't be a descendant somewhere down the line who would do something stupid or simply backed the wrong side of a conflict? That was just something that I couldn't influence anyways so it was pointless to think about. Did Loreon I Lannister consider his descendants hundreds of years down the line? Of course not. In fact, if Tywin somehow knew when the Lannister name ends, he would probably be unmotivated to do anything anymore.

Not that I would say anything about this to him.

We continued our slow trot towards Highgarden.

~o~

The moment we arrived, we were greeted by the Lords and Ladies of Highgarden. However, considering the amount of gifts and servants that needed to be situated, the greeting didn't last too long. More of that would be at the dinner feast that they were throwing for us later on, but for now, I was simply led to a very nice looking room along with my subordinate. It really was a glamorous room, far more than even the guest room in the Hightower. It was built and furnished to impress. Not that I really gave it more than a few looks; I wasn't really that into decor in the first place. As long as it was functional, I didn't need posters of my favorite anime covering the walls like a certain fiery glasses-wearing god.

Instead, I was sitting at a table inside the room with my hands folded in front of my mouth and my eyes staring at the other occupant of the table. I would like to think that I put on the image of a boss, but I had neither white gloves nor tinted sunglasses to complete the look. I didn't even have a scruffy beard.

"So, tell me about yourself, Gregor."

Gregor Clegane, dressed in the plainest of shirts and pants, stared at me blankly from across the wooden table we were sitting at. This was the guest room within the castle, held in reserve for nobility. Even then, this was as extravagant as it went, featuring the most expensive of rugs and drapes. Not that I could tell the difference.

Indeed, he was staring at me blankly—or more accurately, dumbfoundedly—as I conducted the interview. Most nobles would probably have been satisfied with knowing nothing about their underlings, but I was a child of the modern world. Even if I abhorred the mechanical clockwork hierarchy of black corporations, bent on drawing every last bit of your soul out in exchange for low, low price of a few thousand yen, the concept of an interview had a fundamental basis that dated back since time immemorial.

"I'm just asking you to talk a bit about yourself. A little introduction of who you are. Maybe something about your hobbies."

He stared blankly at me. If anything, his frown seemed like it curved even more downward. I could see the reluctance and inherent disdain in his eyes since he barely did anything to hide it. Maybe he didn't know how to. It wasn't unexpected since he was a child of a lower noble house, one that didn't really have much more basis than a landed knight. Some would think that was discrimination, but it wasn't like there existed books like: "How to manage your newly created noble house for beginners." Still, I was his liege; should he really be showing such an expression toward me in the first place? I waited for him to speak, and eventually, he did indeed speak.

"Breaking," Gregor enunciated slowly, almost painfully so. When I gave him a questioning look, he stared at me in confusion. After I prompted him to explain further, he said, "To feel it…shatter."

I could see he was having trouble explaining, as if he was unused to it. He probably was. This was about as amazing a vocabulary as I could probably expect from him, though I—to an extent—understood where he was coming from. Being trained as a knight for the battlefield, he could be said to have potential, and by potential, I mean that he had acquired a taste for violence. This wasn't the modern world where real life violence wasn't usually viewed in a good light; here, it was a very much desirable trait. Therefore, what was the point of more scholarly activities when he had his future job already set out before him?

"Anything you do for fun?"

"No."

"Nothing to relax?"

"No."

"What do you usually do?"

"Fight. Eat. Sleep."

"Alright, how do you train?"

He had far more to say on that than anything else. Even then, he was unused to it, as if speaking itself was a chore. He tried to simply get away with the most minimal of details, forcing me to have to interrupt him often to get clarification and more information. Each time I did so, he took on this furrowed look, as if it pissed him off every time I opened my mouth. In fact, he seemed to preemptively furrow his expression the moment he saw me part my lips. I had to admit that I breathed through my mouth a few times just to see his expression go towards anger before quickly loosening when I didn't say a word. His anger came quick, but calm came just as quickly, as if he was reminding himself who exactly he was speaking to. In the end, I used my patented technique to gather all the statements and combine it into one neat, summarized portion. The end result was:

Gregor Clegane was trained like an attack dog.

The end.

It really was quite simple, and he certainly wasn't articulate enough to express it well. If I had asked him to write a report—assuming that he knew how to read and write—then it would essentially consist of one-liners. Maybe even just be a daily journal.

Day 1:

Forced to write on this parchment because of the Lannister brat. Fuck the Lannisters.

Day 30:

I trained in the morning. Ate lamb. Went to sleep.

Day 55:

The horse threw me off. I broke his leg and his teeth.

Day 95:

I trained in the morning. Ate stew. Tasted like shit. Took a shit. Went to sleep with a headache.

Day 155:

I admire Lord Hachi Lannister. He's a wonderful lord and the greatest thing since they put seaweed in sushi rolls—

Okay, haha, no, he wouldn't write that last one. In any case, that was the sense that I got from him. A bundle of anger without any real means to express it except through violence. It made sense, considering that he was trained like an attack dog. I was pretty sure that was not how a knight was supposed to be trained. Should I be outraged? Considering my modern morals, that would be a yes, but in all honestly, I had seen some dark things since I reincarnated here. If you had beauty and was born a noble, you could get away with it, but if you were born a peasant? You were liable to get outright kidnapped by the local nobles to become a mistress or worse. It was frowned upon, but it wasn't like it stopped lesser noble houses, especially since they were lower on the social totem pole. Not really anything I could do about it, since it was one of those widespread but hush-hush topic that nobody talked about because it was better not to. What about setting a law? Even if I had the power to do that, could I really do that considering my own branch houses probably participates in it and the other kingdoms would certainly not follow suit in the lawmaking.

Not only that, but the criminal justice system here was woefully lacking. It wasn't so much a problem in Japan where there was a sense of societal obligation, even for the Yakuza. However, this was more like Europe or America where crime happened all the time. We didn't have a Sherlock Holmes or a certain adult-turned-child detective to go around, solving crime in an era where it was hard to gather evidence. Not the mention that, because it was hard, the punishment tended to be extreme. If you got caught stealing? How could they know if it was your first time or thousandth time? Off with your hands! Either that or head to the Wall for the rest of your life. It was overkill, but when it was extremely hard to find evidence, every crime had to be treated excessively to deter copycats.

In any case, Gregor Clegane had attack dog training. I was starting to understand why Tywin said I needed to leash him; it seemed he already knew about the situation before he assigned him to me. This was going to be a pain, but it wasn't like I could not do it. Even if it wasn't an assignment from Tywin, the fact that a bundle of murderous energy was living relatively near to Casterly Rock was going to make me have to deal with him sooner or later. And the more later I waited, the more likely it would be too late to redeem him and I would have to put him down. It was hard to think like that, but it wasn't like I could move away and live someplace else. I had to deal with the problem now. It felt like I was in the Service Club again, acting more like a counselor than a lord.

"Gregor."

"Yes, Lord Hachi?"

"We need to find you a hobby."

"My lord?"

Wasn't this what community outreach programs do to prevent students from becoming delinquents or gangsters? Give them a hobby.

"Just follow me."

~o~

A/N: I was just musing in my last author note. No need to take it seriously.