6 The streets of Rain House were covered in mud.
The Boar King’s hooves struck the stone pavement with dull, thunderous force.
Wooden doors and windows on both sides stayed tightly shut.
Common folk peered through the cracks, staring in fear at the giant beast still covered in dried blood.
Rek’Sai reined Pig to a stop in front of the largest inn in the city.
“Whoa—” He tugged the coarse bristles.
Pig gave a low rumble in its throat and halted its massive body.
Inside the stables, more than a dozen warhorses exploded into panic.
They screamed and crowded into the corners.
Several of the more timid ones snapped their tethers outright.
Rek’Sai ignored the stable boy trembling behind a post and walked straight to the wide cattle shed beside the stables.
He seized the gate with one hand, ripped it free along with the rusted lock, and tossed it aside.
“In.” He slapped Pig’s rump.
The Boar King obediently walked inside.
Its bulk nearly filled the entire shed.
Rek’Sai turned and flicked a silver stag accurately into the stable boy’s arms.
“Feed it the best black beans and oats.
Mix in some raw meat.
If you try to feed it rotten straw, I’ll chop you up and give you to it.
When you’re done, scrub it clean.” He flicked another silver stag to the boy.
The stable boy clutched the coins and nodded desperately.
Brienne came trudging up behind them in her dented half-plate.
Blood and mud covered her freckled face.
“Disciple.” Rek’Sai’s green vertical pupils locked onto her.
Brienne straightened on instinct.
“Go into the city and find the best leatherworker and the best blacksmith.” Rek’Sai raised a thick finger and sketched the width of Pig’s back.
“Make me an oversized saddle and harness for this beast.
Thick cowhide, double-layered, iron-reinforced.” Brienne froze for a moment.
“I am the heir of Tarth…” she protested automatically.
“You’re sending me to do a squire’s running?” “You are my disciple now.” Rek’Sai stepped closer.
His 2.4-meter height completely swallowed her in shadow.
“This is your first lesson: obedience.” He paused, mouth curling into a mocking smile.
“What?
Too proud for a noble lady?
Then crawl back to Evenfall Hall.” Brienne clenched her teeth.
The memory of the punch that shattered a leopard’s skull rose in her mind.
She swallowed every protest.
“Fine.” She nodded stiffly.
“Don’t forget to pay for it.
I’m not taking advantage of you.
That leopard’s corpse still has an intact pelt—it’s worth good money.” Rek’Sai tossed the words over his shoulder and walked away.
He was sick of the stench of rotting rainforest leaves, beast blood, and mud clinging to him.
He needed hot water.
Strong wine.
Women.
Nobles and manners were things only idle people cared about.
Across the street, red lanterns glowed on the second floor of a bathhouse.
Several heavily painted women leaned on the railing watching the scene.
When Rek’Sai pushed open the thin wooden door, the frame groaned under the strain.
The heavy scent of perfume hit him at once.
The madam was holding a wine cup.
When she saw the enormous shadow filling the doorway, her wrist jerked and red wine spilled across the floor.
“We… we don’t hire—” she screamed, backing away, eyes locked on the two sharp war-axes at his waist.
Rek’Sai didn’t bother talking.
He reached into the purse at his belt and pulled out a gold dragon.
Slap!
He pressed the coin into the wooden table.
The edge sank deep into the hard oak.
“Hottest water.
Biggest tub.” He dropped into a chair in the center of the hall.
The wood gave a dangerous creak.
“Send five of the prettiest girls to scrub my back.
A body like mine is too much for two.” The madam stared at the gold coin.
Greed quickly overcame fear.
“Second floor!
The biggest room on the second floor!” She immediately put on a fawning smile.
“Hurry!
Call Mary, Sasha and the others—take good care of this… this lord!” Rek’Sai stood and climbed the wooden stairs.
A massive wooden tub was already filled with scalding water.
He tore off the bloodstained hide vest, revealing a bronze, heavily muscled chest full of savage power.
Five girls wearing only thin gauze approached nervously.
When Rek’Sai stepped into the communal tub, the water surged over the rim and splashed across the floor.
Hot water sank into his sore muscles.
He let out a long breath.
Soft hands began moving across his rough skin.
Rek’Sai closed his eyes and called up the system quest panel in his mind.
[Bond Quest: Brienne’s Obsession] [Progress: Incomplete] “Tch.” A cold sound left his throat.
The system was strict.
Brienne’s verbal agreement alone was useless.
Only formal recognition from House Tarth—her father the lord—would count the apprenticeship as complete.
The Arcanite Reaper was a heavy weapon he fully intended to claim.
“Tarth…” Rek’Sai opened his mouth and bit into a peeled purple grape one of the girls held out.
“If that old man refuses, I don’t mind teaching him what my rules look like.” At the same time, inside the main hall of Rain House’s keep, a fire burned high.
Lord Casper Wylde sat in the high seat, idly turning a silver cup in his fingers.
The castellan was known for being changeable and timid.
Right now he studied Brienne with a measuring gaze.
Ser Goodwin gave a slight bow and completed the proper formalities.
“We thank House Wylde for its generosity in lending thirty riders.” His voice was clear and strong.
“Lord Selwyn will remember this kindness.” “Tarth is the eagle of the Stormlands.
We help our own.” Casper waved a hand, but his eyes lingered on Brienne’s deformed armor.
“Still, Lady Brienne.
I hear you brought a huge boar into my city, and a wild man who looks even more like a monster?” He lifted a silk handkerchief to his nose, as if the stench of the rainforest had already entered the hall.
“My gate guards are still shaking.
How could you allow such an unknown danger to walk in so freely?” “His name is Rek’Sai.” Brienne stood straight, neither humble nor aggressive.
“He is a hunter.
He subdued the Boar King with his bare hands and saved my life.
And he is about to become my master.” The hall fell into brief silence.
Casper’s eyes widened.
Then he couldn’t hold back a short, mocking laugh.
“Master?
The heir of House Tarth taking a rainforest savage as teacher?
Lady Brienne, did the forest frighten the sense out of you?” Ser Mond Wylde stepped forward from behind the lord.
The elderly knight was known for loyalty and foresight.
He frowned at Brienne.
“My lady, Ser Goodwin is a veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
Evenfall Hall has the finest master-at-arms and the purest knightly tradition.
Taking a savage as your teacher would damage Tarth’s honor.
Lord Selwyn would never allow such a ridiculous thing.” “Honor lies in strength, not in blood.” The memory of Rek’Sai’s plain, lethal punch flashed through Brienne’s mind again.
“Real combat is not the fancy forms of the training yard.
I saw true power with my own eyes.” Ser Mond shook his head.
“Brute force is not the whole of knighthood.” Brienne’s reply was stiff.
“Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.
I still have business to attend to.
Excuse me.” She ignored Casper’s darkening expression, turned, and strode out of the hall.
The moment she stepped through the stone doorway, Ser Goodwin caught up and gripped her shoulder.
“My lady!
Have you lost your mind?” The old knight’s face was iron-gray, fury barely controlled.
“That ‘Storm’ is extremely dangerous.
Did you see his eyes when he entered the city?
Not a scrap of respect!
He is a beast that answers to no rules!” “He does not need to respect us, Ser Goodwin.” Brienne stopped and turned to face him directly.
“For a few gold coins he is willing to make me stronger.
I believe that will be more useful than anything you have taught me—unless you think you can defeat his mount.” “That is a beast, not a man!” Goodwin raised his voice.
“You are the heir of Tarth!
You are about to be betrothed to Humphrey Wagstaff!
If you bring a wild man back to Evenfall Hall, what will Lord Selwyn think?
What will House Wagstaff think?” At the name Humphrey Wagstaff, Brienne’s hand clenched tightly around her sword hilt.
She would never forget the open disgust and contempt in that man’s eyes—because she did not look like a proper highborn lady.
“I do not care what they think.” Her voice was low, but the stubbornness in it was unshakable.
She pulled free of Goodwin’s hand.
“Arrange for Roland’s body.
Send Pat to the maester.
Prepare a ship to cross the Tarth straits.” Brienne turned and strode toward the smithies.
“I am returning to Tarth.
And I am taking Rek’Sai with me.
If my father refuses to recognize him, I will persuade him.” Ser Goodwin stood where she left him.
Night wind stirred his gray hair.
He watched the back of the girl who had always been shy, clumsy, and desperately hungry for acceptance.
After one journey into the Rainwood, something new burned in her eyes—a fierce hunger for pure, unfiltered violence.