####
King's Landing, Red Keep
"Wylis will see to it. Even if matters take a dark turn, he has the skill to see it through." Jon Arryn declared in the Small Council, trying to end the matter.
"Indeed, my lord. Lord Wylis is most capable. Even my little birds grow quiet in his presence," Varys said with his usual silken charm. "Yet he may find Lord Hoster a challenge, for that one's patience has run quite dry."
"Lord Mooton has brought this upon himself. He acts as though the Targaryens still sit on the Iron Throne. He defies the Crown and withholds the taxes owed. Lord Hoster did only what was asked of him. The attack on Ser Brynden was both craven and without cause."
"Eh…" Grand Maester Pycelle shifted in his seat. "My lord, to bring ruin upon a house of such age and standing… it is no small thing."
"For an old house to endure, its lord must know when to yield with wisdom. Lord Wylis has a steady hand for such matters. I trust he will see it done well. The final choice is his, by His Grace's will."
As soon as Lord Arryn brought in the King's decision, any doubts and hesitations vanished. Nobody wanted to challenge the King. Especially now, as he seemed rather short-tempered for some reason.
"Enough of that. His Grace has promised to send willing hands seeking work to Ramsgate. Have the City Watch draw up a list of the idle within the city. Any without a stain upon their name are to be given the offer. With Lord Wylis held in such regard, I doubt many will refuse."
"Or they all might refuse," Lord Varys said. "He is… feared."
"Not by smallfolk," Jon added.
That seemingly silenced everyone in the Small Council. Indeed, Wylis was loved by the common and feared by the nobles.
After all, the giant from the North had slain the most nobles in recent history. All singlehandedly.
####
Crossroads Inn,
An entire floor of the Inn was leased out for the day. Wylis, with Chett and five more men, sat there since morning. He was in his full armor, just without his helmet, looking more imposing than ever in the rebellion days.
"M'lord, what made House Mooton act so? Can't see sense in it, not when they've no backer to speak of," Chett asked. He was allowed to ask any question as it was a part of his training.
"That's why we're here, Chett. We northerners speak plain and mean what we say. Down South, they twist words and play their little games, especially the highborn. Throw coin in the mix, and they turn sly as foxes. Lord Mooton refused to pay taxes for some foolish reason, and now we're here."
Chett frowned, trying to make sense of the whole thing. It wasn't easy for the tall man after living his initial life as a nobody smallfolk. His life was all about finding work and feeding himself and his family. He'd never bothered to think about greater conflicts, greed, and politics.
"Eh… Is House Mooton poor, my lord?"
"I'd not say so. They've a long history, a port worth guarding, and ships that still earn their keep. A well-fed, coin-heavy lot, if you ask me. Ah, and there they are."
Right then, some armored men came upstairs, their house sigil painted on their chestplate, a red salmon. There were ten of them, then finally an old, white haired man appeared, wearing simple leather armor, a cloak on his shoulders, his expression stern, beard outgrown, dark circles baggy under his eyes.
"Lord Mooton?" Wylis stood up to greet him.
"Lord Kaiser."
For a moment, Wylis measured the old nobleman. Then his gaze fell on the timid, tall boy beside him, likely the son. The boy didn't even meet his gaze, scared as if he'd eat him.
"This is my son, heir to Maidenpool, William Mooton."
Wylis nodded towards the boy and knew already that the house was doomed. Such timidness wasn't suited to run a noble house. How a stern-looking father allowed the boy to be raised such a way was beyond him.
"It's good to meet you both. Sit, if you please. The maid will bring drink and bread soon enough while we wait for Lord Tully." Wylis nodded toward the table and took his seat at the shorter end, leaving the long sides open for the guests. "Tell me, Lord Mooton, what trade keeps your house busy these days? I myself am quite interested in the seaborn trade."
Wylis knew enough how to get people like Lord Mooton to speak. Being a noble, the man obviously wanted to boast and act all mighty. Especially before a new lord like Wylis.
"A bit of everything, my lord," Lord Mooton said with quiet pride. "Our ships often serve as the link between Braavos and Westeros. Though the years since the Conquest have not been easy, my house has endured and prospered."
I wonder how much longer that'll be the case.
"I've heard the tales. They say Queen Alysanne nearly lost her life at your Jonquil's Pool," Wylis said, a hint of mockery in his voice.
Lord Mooton frowned. But just before he could speak, the footsteps came from the stairs. The maid appeared, bringing a tray of refreshments. But right behind were a few armed men with the Tully sigil.
Wylis waited for a moment, but no Hoster appeared. It was just the four men. They approached the table right away, showing a folded parchment.
"Lord Kaiser, we bring you Lord Hoster Tully's word."
With a sigh, Wylis grabbed the paper and read it silently. Only after fully reading it did he frown. "Lord Hoster won't come to speak. Says his brother's taken with fever, and if Ser Brynden dies… well, you know what that would mean."
"What we did was just!" Lord Mooton rose with fury. "If Hoster refuses, there is nothing we can do. I'll take this matter to King's Landing."
Wylis shook his head. "You will do no such thing. The Crown left the choice to me. Sit down and speak plain. Why do you refuse the taxes?"
"I wouldn't call it refusal, Lord Wylis. I have already rendered what was owed. I mean no slight to His Grace or to Lord Tully. It has been less than a year since King Robert's reign began. My dues were paid to the Crown, the one before now. What you ask now is not due, but more besides."
Wylis nearly nodded. It really was a valid point. If the man had already paid his yearly taxes to the Crown, it wasn't his concern who sat on the throne now. But of course, Wylis had no way to confirm it. And since the Crown was going this far, it meant they had no record of the paid taxes either.
"And Ser Brynden? What reason had you to cut him?"
"He mocked my son. He mocked my house. He mocked my allegian—"
"What reason had you to cut him?" Wylis repeated the same question.
The air tensed at the table. Lord Mooton glared while standing. "You would forgive someone mocking your house and your son?"
Creak!
Wylis stood up, larger than any man there, taller too, and in his armor, he was a god of war. "I'd not let it come to that. The mockery you face is of your own making. I care nothing for your affairs. The Crown asks this matter be settled, and so it will be. I've duties in the North and no time to waste on a Mad King's cocksucker."
Rare, but Wylis did deploy a strategic mockery to rile up the man. Lord Mooton was clearly an impulsive, proud man. Dealing with the likes of him was the easiest. All Wylis needed was a justification to become violent.
And since he wanted to take Maidenpool's ships, there was no need to be kind and defuse the situation.
"What did you say?!" Lord Mooton boomed.
Wylis shrugged. "Mad King's cocksucker. A man who sucked Mad King's cock. I can put it plainer if your wits are dull."
"You called me here to mock me?!"
"Why? You wanted a kiss instead? You and I were foes not long past. I slew your other son, didn't I? Myles, was it? Aye, Rhaegar's squire, at the Battle of the Bells. The boy came at me with Connington and four men. Don't make the same mistake, Lord Mooton. Your house survived many tribulations, aye, but do fear this one."
Lord Mooton turned red. "You expect me to take this lying? Boy, you've been a lord for months! You were shoveling horseshit longer."
"Still did more than you ever managed in all your years. You bent the knee to a mad, inbred king instead of standing with us when the realm called for it. Even your own Lord Paramount rose, but you hid behind his back. Now you had the chance to make it right, to earn a shred of respect again. Yet you chose this." Wylis stepped closer to the table. "You'll ride with me to Riverrun. You'll kneel, face in the dirt, and beg if that's what it takes."
"I will do no such thing." Lord Mooton scoffed.
"I wasn't asking."
Scrrrr!
All ten men behind Lord Mooton unsheathed their blades. The four Tully men who had arrived did the same. As did Chett and five more of Wylis' men.
"Chett, stand and watch. A blade's length does not decide the victor. It's the mastery," Wylis warned, grabbing a fork he was using to eat. "Each move you make only buries you deeper, Lord Mooton. You can still ride with me to Riverrun and keep your pride."
"On my dead body!"
Bam!
Wylis kicked the table with explosive strength, throwing it away to create space. The closest men to him were Lord Mooton and his son, William. But instead of focusing on them, Wylis bolted past them towards the sword-wielding men.
"Should've worn helmets."
As those words fell, Wylis pounced forward. It wasn't an open space, so it was pointless to try and swing long swords. Wylis himself was covered in plated armor, except for his head. But it was they who needed to be worried.
"Gah!"
Wylis ducked an incoming swing of the blade, letting it strike one of their own. He countered the attack with an uppercut, the pointy ends of his fork protruding out from between his fingers. He struck the windpipe, puncturing it.
As the first man fell, Wylis moved fast despite his massive body. A few swords struck him, but they only connected with his armor.
From then on, it turned into a complete brawl. As soon as the Mooton's men realized swords were useless, they threw them away and took out their daggers.
However, Wylis was even better in hand-to-hand combat. He allowed himself to move around the tavern hall until he had his back against the wall, allowing him to narrow the attack range for better focus.
"Gah!"
"How?!"
One of the Mooton's men screamed when Wylis killed another with a spoon-jap in the eyesocket.
"A fucking spoon?!"
Wylis was moving through instincts. Bedding Lyanna and Ashara often had increased his strength. His jabs pierced them due to his fork, but his punches alone broke jaws.
"Ugh!"
His primary focus was on throats and faces since the rest of their bodies were covered in some level of armor.
Clank!
Wylis blocked a dagger with his arm-guard and eased into the same man, ducked, threw an arm down between the legs, and lifted the man clean off the ground, only to throw him at Lord Mooton and his son, William.
Chaotic, messy, Wylis went through them one by one. Eyes blinded, throats punctured by a fork. And some died because Wylis used them as a shield against their own brethren's attacks. His footwork defied his size.
Thud!
Wylis kicked one, crushing their chest, knocking the lungs out.
Another shoulder smacked, crushing the man against the wall.
Ten got reduced to three, and then just one. The only wound Wylis received was a small cut on the edge of his ear. A dagger had scraped him.
"Haa!" Wylis lifted the last frightened man, and instead of throwing him around, he threw him upwards. So hard that the poor bloke broke the ceiling, filling the place with dust, before finally slamming back down on the floor.
"..."
"That's how it's done." Wylis threw away the fork and clapped his hands clean.
"..."
Chett and other Ramsgate men stood there frozen.
The four Tully men didn't even get to swing their blades.
Lord Mooton and his son were still lying on the floor by the man Wylis had thrown at them earlier.
Ting!
[Hidden Quest Completed - Master of Negotiation
Description - A Tyrant never tolerates disrespect when making a deal.
Goal - Dominate the negotiations with Lord Mooton.
Reward - Greater Fame, New Title]
Ting!
[New Title Acquired - Spoonman of the Crossroads
Description - You have killed enough men with spoons to gain widespread fame for it.
Effect - 50% Discount at Crossroads Inn for all food and drinks.]
Hah!
Wylis chuckled at the useless reward and insignificant title. But it was better than nothing.
"Chett, tie the father and son. We're going to Riverrun."
As the men moved to work quickly, Wylis leaned against a wall and watched. He tried to see any deceit or hidden plots on Lord Mooton's face, but there weren't any. The man seemed to have genuinely come to the inn to negotiate, albeit with too much pride.
Yet, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.
This is too easy for a Main Quest.
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