Game Of Thrones: A Wizard In The World Of Westeros (ASOIF)

I nodded to myself, asking for a silver stag and a copper penny on top of the three hundred gold dragons, as well as a general map of the regions, if he had one.

"I don't see why not. I keep a few spares in case I lose my own personal map." The merchant accepted, pulling out said coins and map, handing me the rest of the bags as I gave him a respectful nod, before leaving. Immediately after, I made my way to a nearby empty alleyway, placing all of the coins in my featherweight pouch which was full of galleons, sickles and knuts.

"You think you can do it?" I asked after a few moments of silence, map still in my left hand.

I would look at it later.

"Child's play." The sword rattled as I felt it exercise its will upon the contents of my pouch. A few moments later, the flow of energy stopped. "It is done."

I dug my hand into the pouch, pulling out a handful of coins. Instead of sickles, I had silver stags. Instead of galleons, I had gold dragons. I nodded in satisfaction, before pocketing the money and making to leave.

"Well, well." A group of dirty looking men looked at me with grins of anticipation. "What have we here? An errant son of a Lord, lost in the city?"

"No." I denied, sounding a little bored. "i'm not a noble."

"You sure look noble enough." The guy on the right said, looking me up and down. "You're prettier than most girls."

I shivered in slight disgust at his leer.

"Maybe most girls that are desperate enough to talk to you. You look like a dog shat down your face." I retorted, and the man's companions were taken aback for a moment, before snickering at the leader.

"Shut up!" He said, and, instead of stopping, they started laughing harder— at least until he slapped one in the face so hard he spun and fell on his hands and knees, disoriented by the blow. "Anyone else want to have some laughs?"

No one said anything.

I frowned, and looked at these men. Honestly, it looked as if they hadn't eaten in days. The grime and dirt on them only added to it.

I took pity on them.

"Look." I said, grabbing their attention. "You lot can go. I won't hold it against you."

"I'm afraid we won't do as you say, little lordling." The leader cut in with a vicious grin. "Now hand over your—"

That was as far as he got before I crossed the distance between us and drove my fist into his stomach, channeling a bit of Lightning to give him a light shock. He keeled over, his breath unwillingly leaving his body as he gasped for air which just wouldn't enter his lungs.

He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn't obey. He simply fell to his side, random parts of his body still spasming sporadically.

"As I was saying." I glared down at the man, before staring at his men with a bit less vehemence. "You may leave."

They stared dumbly at me.

"I said go!" I shouted, and they scurried away like rats.

I smirked at the absurdity of it. Grown men running away from a sixteen year old boy.

The sound of light scuffling reached my ears, and I looked down to see the thieves' leader trying to crawl away from me— albeit very slowly.

I stepped on his left calf, hard.

He cringed and yelped as the pressure almost cracked the bone.

"Please, milord." He begged. "I swear I will never do it again."

"Is that so?" I said lightly, pressing down harder.

"Yes! Yes! Please!" He almost screamed out.

"Maybe I should turn you in to the relevant authorities, so they can make sure." I kept on going.

"No!" He almost bellowed but quieted down when I put some more pressure on his leg. "Anything but that. They would take my hand, or force me to take the black!"

"Take the black?" I repeated. "Explain."

And so came a rudimentary explanation of a group of fighters at a place called the Wall, a supposedly gigantic wall— over seven hundred feet, if the man were to be believed— made out of ice, far to the north. According to him, the Wall kept the kingdom safe from tribes of savages called the wildlings, and life as a "Man of the Night's Watch" was a miserable existence: unable to father children, claim inheritances or earn glory. The sentence for desertion was death.

"Please!" He kept begging. "Mercy! Mercy."

I rolled my eyes and lifted my foot. "Go on."

"Thank you, milord!" He made to kiss my feet, but I kicked him away.

"Just go! You disgust me." I said and walked away, stopping myself from swearing up a storm as I made my way back to the inn I was staying.

There was a bard, now, likely having come in the time I was away, and he was singing a song while playing what was probably the predecessor of the guitar— possibly the predecessor of the predecessor. Heh.

The inn keeper gave me a nod, as I pulled out seven silver stags, placing them in front of the man. "This should cover me for.. a few weeks, I believe?"

"Indeed." The inn keeper confirmed, pocketing the coin. "I shall have my son take you to your room."

"Sounds fine." I nodded.

"Edmund!" The inn keeper called out, and waited. A cry of "coming!" was heard, before I heard the shuffling of feet against the wooden floor. A boy, looking to be about my age, emerged from a back room, moving past the dancing bard and addressing his father.

"Yes, father?" The boy asked, giving me a sidelong glance.

"Take this man to our top-most room." The inn keeper said, and waved the boy off.

The boy, Edmund, nodded and turned to me. "Follow me."