39

Chapter 39: Ch 30 Win-WinChapter Text

"What is that damn boy doing down there?" Olenna's voice seethed through gritted teeth as she leaned forward, her gaze piercing the scene unfolding below.

In the viewing area, the Tyrell family occupied their respective positions. Olenna, the matriarch, sat on the far right, her aged fingers drumming with impatience on a small table beside her, a plate of cheese forgotten. Lord Mace, occupying the central spot, had his table overflowing with an assortment of snacks and pastries, clearly intended for the guests. And closest to the stairs was Willas watching with a troubled expression.

They all watched as Loras entered the desolate training ground accompanied by Dacey, the Northern girl from House Mormont. A fleeting conversation passed between them, and then immediately vanished into the nearby changing room, emerging moments later clad in leathers and breeches, a clothing rarely worn by women in Reach.

"I fear they're about to engage in a duel," Willas confided, his voice laden with concern, his gaze locked on Loras and Dacey as they began warning up, Loras with his training sword and Dacey Mormont with the only Morning star available in the Training yard that had barely been used by anyone before, "I"I warned you, grandmother, that sending Loras to receive Jon was ill-advised, Now—"

"And I thought he was going to provoke a fight with the boy, not the girl!" Olenna interjected. Although she loved all her grandchildren equally, there was something about Loras that reminded her too much of his father, speaking of which "What have you been teaching him, you—" she turned toward her biggest embarrassment only to find him gorging himself on pastries and hadn't even bothered to look up what was going on, "Stop eating, you fool!" she hissed, her frustration evident.

"But Mother—"

"NOW!" Olenna's harsh whisper echoed, compelling Mace to reluctantly set down his favourite cake. He quickly wiped his hands on his pants, a despondent look replacing the joy he had earlier derived from the snacks.

Just then, the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs caught their attention. All eyes turned to Margery, who led a handsome young man into the room. He possessed brown hair and grey eyes, a common trait among the Starks. However, his eyes were so dark grey that they appeared almost black. His tall stature and lean build hinted at countless hours spent in the training yard.

"Jon! It's wonderful to see you again, my friend," Willas exclaimed, rising from his seat to greet him with an enthusiastic handshake.

"The pleasure is mine, Willas," Jon replied warmly.

Willas suddenly narrowed his eyes and leaned down to whisper, "You decline my invitation, yet accept my grandmother's. Should I take offence?" he tried to say it with a stern expression on his face but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

With a poker face, Jon whispered back, "You lack the intimidating reputation your grandmother possesses."

Willas erupted into genuine laughter, his hand landing playfully on Jon's shoulder. "Good answer!" he chuckled. Turning to his assembled family, he declared, "Come, allow me to introduce you to my kin." Stepping forward, he gestured toward his father, Mace, and said, "Jon, this is my father, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Mace Tyrell."

"Lord Tyrell, it is an honour to make your acquaintance," Jon greeted Mace with a graceful bow, his words measured and respectful.

Mace's eyes fixated on Jon, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You bear a striking resemblance to your father, boy," he mused, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. Not waiting for a response, he continued, "I met him a few times. Did he tell you about that?" With enthusiasm, Mace launched into a tale, recounting his involvement in the rebellion.

"It was during the rebellion, you see," Mace began, his voice filled with pride. "I was there outside Storm's End with my army, having the castle completely surrounded. Every single person inside was starving, on the verge of defeat. But before that could happen, your father arrived with the news that King's Landing had fallen..."

Mace continued with his story like a peacock while Willas and Jon exchanged awkward glances. Margery had been called to stand behind her grandmother as soon as she entered the room, and Jon caught a glimpse of her answering Olenna's whispered questions. Though he couldn't hear their conversation, he could deduce that they were discussing Loras and Dacey's activities below.

"—and then he requested that I lay down my arms and join their side," Mace continued, his voice brimming with self-importance. "I was reluctant, of course, but he convinced me that since the king was dead, there was no need for further bloodshed. So I graciously—

"I'm sure the boy has heard all about it from his father already. No need to bore him with that," Jon was sure that it didn't go down quite the way Mace put it but it would be stupid of him to deny the Lord some bragging so he just put on a fake smile and listened to his drivel. Still, he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him when Olenna interrupted, preventing Mace from delving into the entire rebellion from "his" perspective.

Seizing the opportunity, Willas swiftly ushered Jon toward his grandmother. "Jon, this is my grandmother, Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne—"

"I'm sure he knows who I am, considering I am the one who invited him," Olenna interjected, her gaze appraising as she locked eyes with Jon. Jon responded by kissing the back of her hand with perfect courtesy. "My Lady, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Olenna raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "A Northerner with manners, now that's a rare sight," she commented.

"Grandmother!" Willas and Margery chimed simultaneously, their frowns mirroring their disapproval. Yet, Jon didn't lose his smile for a single second, in fact, it became even more genuine, as he replied with a tilt of his head, "Thank you for the compliment, My lady. I've worked hard on my etiquette since childhood,"

"Thank you for the compliment, my lady. I've worked hard on my etiquette since childhood."

Olenna's interest sparked an intrigued gleam in her eyes. However, the conversation was abruptly interrupted as Mace interjected, unable to resist boasting further. "Tell me, boy, did Lord Stark tell you about the Battle of Ashford? You know, the only time King Robert lost to anyone..."

Jon watched as the rest of the Tyrells, except Mace, tried to suppress groans of exasperation. It became clear that Mace had a habit of bragging to every new guest that arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon caught Olenna's signal to one of her giant guards, standing by the stairs. The guard nodded imperceptibly, then positioned himself in front of Mace, bowing respectfully. "My Lord, the Maester has an urgent letter that requires your immediate attention."

"An important letter, you say?" Mace's eyes widened with feigned surprise. Puffing out his chest, he addressed Jon proudly, "I apologize, boy, but I must attend to this matter immediately. You know how many duties the Lord Paramount of the Reach has." With a final pat on Jon's shoulder, Mace made his way toward the exit.

Willas shook his head with a sigh, disappointed at how gullible his father was. He knew that his Father wasn't the brightest but still, he should have known by now that it was one of Olenna's tactics to manipulate him. Thankfully, she refrained from issuing her usual "Get lost, you oaf!" reserved for family members. Maintaining a semblance of respect for the Lord of House Tyrell was crucial, no matter how superficial it might be.

"Now tell me—" Olenna began, but then paused and turned to her grandchildren. "What are you waiting for? Go see your brother make a fool of himself," she shooed them away with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I want to talk to Jon Snow here alone."

Willas hesitated momentarily before rising with a sigh. Casting an apologetic glance at Jon, he moved to stand by the railing, far enough to be out of earshot. Margery attempted to make herself inconspicuous, inching behind her grandmother, hoping to escape her notice. However, Olenna's glare fixed on her granddaughter, prompting Margery to scramble after her brother, but not before waving to Jon and casting a pitying glance in his direction.

"Why are you still standing? Sit down!" Olenna commanded, and Jon calmly took the seat vacated by Willas. "Now tell me, why did you not accept Loras's offer to duel? Were you scared? Because if you were, I must say, I am quite disappointed. I thought that you Starks were famous for your Wolf's blood or something."

Jon easily recognized that Olenna had been trying to provoke him from the start, though the reason remained unclear. Nonetheless, he knew how to navigate such encounters. "Well, I thought it would be a waste of my time, as I came here for a different purpose than to play knight," he replied with a subtle smirk. "Besides, I am more of a hunter and an archer than a swordsman."

"A waste of time, you say..." Olenna mused, her narrowed eyes fixed upon him. "But didn't you promise to fight him once he defeated that girl?"

"I did," Jon nodded, his gaze shifting to the predatory smirk on Dacey's face below. "But I don't think it will come to that."

"I somehow get the feeling that you're underestimating my grandson," she remarked, plucking a piece of cheese from the plate before them. "And while I can see that the girl's a bit older than Loras, he has been taught by the finest knight the Reach could offer. He rarely loses to a fighter his age, so... I think you'd be foolish to take him for a lousy fighter."

Jon maintained his calm demeanour, his gaze steady. "Oh, I can see from here that he is a hard worker and has a solid foundation. But... that's all I can see," he subtly shrugged, provoking her. "I don't believe it would be enough to defeat Dacey."

Olenna raised an eyebrow, her confidence unwavering. "You're quite confident about her, aren't you?"

"I am," Jon affirmed.

"In that case, how about a bet?" Olenna proposed a glint of challenge in her eyes.

At last, Jon realized the true purpose behind her invitation and her initial attempts to provoke him. "What do you have in mind?"

"I've heard that you're in the market for some trade galleys," she inquired, raising an eyebrow. When Jon nodded, she continued, "So, how about I give you one for free if Loras happens to lose?"

"In exchange for what?" Jon knew that a single galley would be nothing more than pocket change for her so he didn't even bat an eye at her betting it on a simple duel.

"I've heard rumours of a secret route you use to bypass the Ironborn," she stated nonchalantly as if it hadn't been her true objective from the start. "I want access to that route if Loras wins. How does that sound?"

"Hmm... It does seem heavily skewed in your favour, considering the profits that can be made using the route," he mused. Then, with a sweet smile, he added, "But... I'll agree to that on behalf of you inviting me to see the castle of Highgarden"

"That's final then," she said, her smug smile mirroring Jon's. It was at that exact moment both of them looked down to find that Loras and Dacey had finished warming up and had entered the ring for their duel.

Loras had a distracted expression on his face as he kept glancing towards the balcony with a scowl on his face, while Dacey assumed a relaxed stance, her Morningstar gripped firmly in her right hand.

The duel started at a predetermined signal and Loras didn't waste a single second to go on the offensive with a flurry of strikes, each aimed at swiftly ending the contest. Yet, Dacey calmly evaded his attacks, stepping back and gracefully leaning her body sideways to narrowly avoid each blow. When she couldn't dodge, she effortlessly parried Loras's sword with her Morningstar, wielding it as if it weighed nothing.

In due course, Dacey found herself at the edge of the ring, forced to halt her evasive manoeuvres. Seizing the opportunity, Loras smirked and pressed his advantage, moving in for the kill as Dacey bought her Morning Star to defend against his slash.

As they locked their weapons, Loras opened his mouth, most probably to say something like, 'Surrender now,' or 'I don't want to hit a girl,' but sadly he never got the chance to say more than a few words as out of nowhere Dacey smashed her forehead ruthlessly into the pretty boy's nose causing him to see stars. He stumbled back like a disoriented drunk before crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

A stunned silence settled over the scene, broken by Margery's gasp, "LORAS," as she rushed down the stairs to check on her fallen brother. Olenna wore an incredulous expression, while Jon calmly savoured a pastry before him, "Loras may have been taught by the best, but unfortunately, he is still a green boy... On the other hand, Dacey has been slaying Wildlings and Ironborn raiders since she was ten years old... There was never any real competition between them from the beginning."

...

Loras once again crashed to the ground, prompting a groan from Willas on the balcony railing, while Margery anxiously observed the fight from outside the ring.

Loras, of course, hadn't accepted his defeat at Dacey's hand and immediately after getting rid of the dizziness as well as wiping the blood from his nose, he had jumped up and challenged her to a fight again saying that he only lost because he was distracted. And Dacey, who was in the ring for some entertainment to begin with, immediately complied and so began the beat down of the youngest Tyrell while the other three members of his family watched from afar.

While it was easy to see that Loras had all his fundamentals down and knew how to slash or stab flawlessly, his stance was stable too and he also utilized his footwork perfectly but the problem was that he was too rigid... his adherence to what he had been taught rendered his style somewhat flowery and predictable and Dacey exploited this flaw with relentless precision. His lack of experience in real-life-and-death battles became apparent, especially in contrast to Dacey, who had already shed all unnecessary elements from her skillset.

Punches to the gut, strikes to his hand holding the sword, trips, and so on, Dacey defeated him in a unique way every single time. And she didn't show him an ounce of mercy and even kicked him in the nuts once, which had kept him down for quite a while. Unlike Loras, who primarily relied on swinging and dodging, Dacey utilized every part of her body as a weapon. If Jon were to compare her fighting style to anyone, it would be to the Hound.

"He is tenacious, I'll give him that," Jon remarked, impressed by Loras's resilience. Willas emitted a hollow laugh beside him before turning to his grandmother. "Don't you think we should intervene? Isn't this enough?"

"No," Olenna retorted, ruthlessly turning away from the fight. "As Jon here said, the boy is still green. He needs to learn that there are better fighters out there, sooner or later." With her declaration made, she returned to her seat. Jon offered Willas a sympathetic pat before following Olenna's lead and reclaiming his own seat.

"How much?" Olenna asked abruptly.

"Hmm! How much?"

Jon feigned puzzlement, though he knew precisely what she was referring to.

"How much for the route?" Olenna asked, her patience forced, as she had made no secret of her desire for it. She had wagered against him twice, initially believing that Loras had lost to Dacey due to a fluke. However, she stopped after losing two galleys as she wasn't blind enough to not see that her grandson simply wasn't the better fighter.

"Ah, that!" Jon exclaimed, raising his eyebrows before shaking his head ruefully. "I'm sorry to say that it's not for sale."

"Do you even understand what 'How much?' means, boy?"

"I do, actually," Jon replied, his gaze unwavering. "I'm aware that your house is one of the wealthiest in Westeros, second only to the Lannisters. But I also understand the value of this route. It would connect two kingdoms that have never engaged in substantial trade in history, two kingdoms with vast disparities—one rich in food, the other abundant in natural resources. This route has the potential to generate wealth not only once or twice, but for generations to come..."

Unspoken but understood between them was the security risk with the fact that the route would provide the Reach with a direct path into the North. Not that there was any such 'Route' to begin with unless you count the one you can only find with a warg. But Jon didn't have to tell that to Tyrell Martriach before him.

"You don't think you can keep it hidden for long, do you?" Olenna's tone remained neutral, lacking any hint of menace, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

Jon chuckled softly. "Oh, I don't just think it—I know it. In fact, nobles and merchants from the Westerlands have been trying to find it for months now, but not a single one has succeeded. They've sent ship after ship to follow us, but each time, they either got lost at sea or had to turn back halfway because they couldn't keep up with us at night." He turned to Olenna with a smile. "I'm sure Tara has already informed you that we can travel during the night. So if you believe you can outdo them during the Hour of the Wolf, then by all means, try your hand at the open sea on a dark night..."

Olenna had already gleaned all the details from Tara upon her arrival, which is also why she was so desperate to get the route as she knew that it would definitely give the Tyrells a large advantage over their powerful vessels. Moreover, she was aware that Jon had not only sold those Stark horses but also a variety of other Northern products that were highly sought after in the region. Thus, she could already envision the future profits that awaited her house.

"I heard that you've been seeking to purchase crops in bulk," Olenna abruptly changed the topic.

Jon wasn't surprised by her knowledge and responded innocently, "Yes, I am. Why do you ask? Are you looking to sell some?"

"I want you to exclusively buy from us, now and in the future..."

"That could be challenging," Jon replied with a thoughtful expression. "You see, I've already made promises to several suppliers that I will purchase from them. And you know how much a Stark's word means..."

When Olenna raised an eyebrow, essentially conveying the message, 'What do you want then?' Jon continued with a grin, "However, I am not exactly a Stark but a Snow, so I can agree to your proposal... with a few conditions, of course..."

"Go on," Olenna said, intrigued.

"You will always sell to us at twenty per cent less than the market price," Jon proposed.

It seems to her that boy's done a good amount of research as he quoted the exact amount which wasn't outrageous enough to not leave her with enough profits while not getting taken advantage of, so she agreed without any bargaining, "Fine,"

"You will provide us with as many trade galleons as we want on an interest-free loan—"

"What? Interest-free? Are you out of your mind, boy?" Olenna interrupted, her face displaying disbelief. "Do you take us for a charity? Why in the seven hells would I give you anything interest-free? And what do you mean by 'as many as you want'? Do you think we are the Bravoos, churning out a new ship every other day?"

"Don't worry about that. We will only acquire the ships that we can afford, so you will have ample time. Besides, the most crucial resource needed is wood, which we can easily supply," Jon explained patiently. "Doesn't it make sense to you? The more ships we have, the more prosperous we become. And the more prosperous we become, the more we buy from you. In the end, it's a win-win situation where everyone benefits."

Olenna didn't reveal it on her face, but she had to admit that she was genuinely impressed. She understood better and better how he achieved such success at such a young age. However, she was no pushover herself. "You know, I like the way you think. That's why I'll agree to your condition, but only if I have the first priority to purchase any number of Starkhorses you bring to the Reach for us to sell."

"You want to tie us even further... Huh," Jon responded, raising an eyebrow.

"As you said, it's a win-win," Olenna stated. She had already heard that every merchant who had bought those Stark horses was selling them like hotcakes, so it didn't take her long to calculate that she would make significant profits for a long time. She wanted to get in on that action too.

"Half... You can have the priority of buying half the stocks," Jon negotiated, anticipating Olenna's potential objection, "AND you'll get a ten per cent discount for being our Business Partner,"

"Fine...then—"

"Let's get to Condition number three then..." Jon interjected with a wide smile.

"Oh, you're a greedy little bastard, aren't you?" Olenna remarked, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"I am, indeed," Jon replied cheekily, as he had resolved from the beginning to squeeze as much as he could from these wealthy Southerners.

...

"...Oh, don't glare at me like that, pretty boy," Dacey said with a smirk, addressing Loras, who had finally exhausted his stamina and lay on the ground, breathing heavily. "You do know that I was going easy on you."

Loras glared even harder, and Dacey raised her hand in surrender, saying with a cheeky smile, "I really was! See, I didn't go for your pretty face even once—Oh! Sorry! Only once!"

She was telling the truth, but every other part of Loras's body was filled with bruises and ached more than anything. Loras had always believed he was a skilled fighter, and he had imagined himself surpassing the likes of Ser Barristan or Ser Jaime with time, confident that he would eventually defeat them.

But today he learned that he didn't amount to much if he couldn't even beat an ordinary girl from the North. Perhaps he wasn't the prodigy he thought himself to be, and maybe everyone had been taking it easy on him.

As Loras grappled with his internal conflict, Jon called out to Dacey from the base of the stairs, "Dacey! Come on, we're leaving."

"Oh, right," she nodded at Jon before turning back to Loras, who was getting up. She placed the Morning Star on the ground and said, "It was nice playing knight with you, pretty boy, but I have to go now. Maybe we'll have another bout the next time we meet."

"I-I'll definitely beat you next time," Loras declared with determination, looking straight into her eyes.

"Uh... sure," Dacey responded with an amused smile before running toward Jon, who was impatiently waiting. "So, are you done with your talks?"

"I am," Jon replied, immediately heading towards the exit.

"And..." Dacey asked, struggling to keep up with him. "How did it go?"

"We got more than I had hoped for, so it was perfect," Jon answered before turning to her with an accusing glare. "No thanks to you! I specifically told you to take it easy on the kid."

"Hehe... I just couldn't help it. He was so naive and overconfident that I wanted to teach him a lesson," Dacey admitted with a sadistic chuckle, but she stopped herself upon seeing Jon's glare. "Besides, he was the one who kept coming back for more. It wasn't my fault... Is that why we're leaving so early? Is the old crone angry that I hurt her precious grandson too much and is kicking us out?"

"No, nothing like that," Jon clarified.

"Then why?"

"Because that foolish wildling somehow slipped past the guards and is now roaming the streets of Highgarden," Jon said through gritted teeth.

"Oh... Yeah, that would be a disaster waiting to happen..." Dacey responded, realizing the potential consequences.