“Damn Horas…
Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Sam muttered, staring sadly at his damaged book.
The fall had clearly done a number on it.
The corners of the binding were cracked, and several pages had been crumpled and folded.
Sam gently ran his hand over them, as if he could somehow smooth them back into shape, but the damage was already done.
Arthur watched him sympathetically.
“What did he want from you?”
Honestly, Arthur was more curious about why Horas kept calling Sam “piggy,” but asking him directly would probably be rude.
Sam let out a heavy sigh and sat back down against the tree.
“It’s a long story,” he muttered.
“My father sent me here to be raised, and ever since then, Horas and Hobber have been picking on me…”
Arthur frowned.
“Why?”
“Because they can.” Sam gave a bitter little laugh.
“They’re stronger, more confident, and they just…
enjoy it.
Of course, they claim they’re training me.”
Arthur pressed his lips together.
He knew the type.
There were always people who enjoyed humiliating someone weaker than themselves.
Arthur had been too fast and too tall for anyone to casually pick on him.
And whenever someone stronger than him came along, Arthur simply ran.
“Have you ever tried telling your father?” Arthur asked carefully, trying to help.
“He knows,” Sam said miserably.
“My father wants me to become a warrior…
but I’m just not made for it.”
“Well, you did a pretty good job of fighting back,” Arthur said, trying to encourage him.
Sam gave a humorless snort and rubbed his wrists.
“I don’t think that’ll stop them.
Maybe if my father sees that I’m useless, he’ll send me home.
Otherwise, they’re never going to leave me alone.
That’s why I come here, to the grove.
They’d never found me here before, but now…”
He sighed and opened his book, as if retreating back into the one world where he felt comfortable.
Arthur genuinely felt sorry for him.
Sam seemed like someone who simply wasn’t made for fighting.
Arthur had met people like that before, people who would just curl up whenever they were bullied or beaten because they were too afraid to fight back.
But today, Sam had found the courage to stand up to his tormentor.
So there had to be something in him.
“Anyway, what’s this inscription?” Arthur asked, changing the subject as he pointed at the symbols in the book.
Sam blinked, as though he’d just remembered he wasn’t alone, then looked closely at the symbols Arthur was pointing toward.
“Oh, that?
That’s High Valyrian.”
“Valyrian?” Arthur asked, sitting down beside him.
“That’s what they spoke in Valyria?”
“High Valyrian.
It used to be the language of the dragonlords,” Sam explained enthusiastically.
“Nobody really speaks it anymore, though.
They mostly speak Astapori and Meereenese now.
But those are completely different…”
“You know it?”
Arthur didn’t even bother hiding his interest.
Maybe he’d finally find out what those strange texts actually meant.
Sam blushed slightly.
“A little,” he admitted modestly.
“I’ve been trying to learn it, but it’s really difficult…”
“I see…” Arthur dragged the tip of his wooden sword through the dirt thoughtfully.
Then he made up his mind.
“Can you translate this?”
He quickly drew the first line of the mysterious inscription in the dirt.
The symbols had appeared before his eyes at his command, and he carefully copied every strange curve and flourish.
Sam leaned closer, frowning as he studied the writing.
“Well…
I’ll try,” he muttered.
“This one looks like it means ‘never’…
and this one is the opposite, ‘always.’ This word looks like ‘star,’ and this one has something to do with blood…
or maybe I’m reading it wrong.
And this one definitely means ‘black.'”
“That’s all?”
Arthur couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Sam looked up at him in surprise.
He knew you weren’t supposed to judge someone by their appearance, but still…
it was strange that this boy had apparently seen writing like this somewhere before.
“You remembered all of that?”
“I’ve got a good memory,” Arthur said with a shrug.
Sam tapped his finger thoughtfully against the book.
There were still plenty of Valyrian words he didn’t know.
In truth, he’d been exaggerating his knowledge a little.
He’d only started studying Valyrian after arriving here.
Before that, Lord Randyll Tarly, his father, had forbidden him from reading books at all.
“I’d love to help, but I’m still learning,” he said regretfully, staring at the unfamiliar words.
“You already know more than I do,” Arthur said with a chuckle.
He was a little disappointed, but at least now he knew what he needed to do if he wanted to understand those symbols.
Learn Valyrian.
Or get rich enough to hire a translator.
Neither option sounded particularly easy.
“Maybe,” Sam said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
“Books are pretty much the only good thing on this island.”
“What about peaches?” Arthur asked with a grin.
Only then did he remember why he’d come here in the first place.
Arthur walked over to the tree and pulled down a thin branch.
Among the green fruit, he spotted one that was ripe, its skin warmed by a soft blush.
He plucked it and tossed it to Sam.
To Arthur’s surprise, Sam caught it easily.
“Yeah…
and peaches,” Sam said with a smile.
“Thanks.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Arthur sat down in the grass and happily bit into the juicy fruit.
Juice immediately ran down his chin, but he didn’t care.
He barely even noticed, too busy enjoying every sweet bite.
Paul had been right.
“Where did you see those symbols?” Sam suddenly asked.
The question caught Arthur off guard.
“Ah…
I grew up in an orphanage near a sept,” the boy replied, telling only half the truth.
“They taught me how to read there.
I saw them in one of the books.”
“You can read?”
Sam immediately perked up.
He started asking Arthur what books he’d read and recommending books that he’d read himself.
The truth was, Arthur had only ever read the Seven-Pointed Star, parts of which the septons had forced them to memorize, and the Book of Sacred Prayers.
So for the most part, Sam did the talking.
To his credit, he was surprisingly interesting.
Even after the septons had practically beaten Arthur’s desire to read out of him, he found himself wanting to pick up a few books.
Sam’s description of Wonders was especially interesting.
It was a book written by Lomas Longstrider about the natural wonders of the world, and it was Sam’s favorite.
The time passed without either of them noticing.
By the time they finished talking and eating peaches, the sun was already getting close to the horizon.
That’s when Arthur remembered that people might be looking for him.
The old man had also told him to come by in the evening to collect his armor.
It was time to go.
“You really weren’t bad at fighting,” Arthur told Sam, who looked a little disappointed.
Arthur explained that they might not see each other the next day.
Sam had offered to bring Wonders with him so they could read it together, but Arthur didn’t know what Davos had planned.
Besides, it made sense that the ship wouldn’t stay in one place for long.
They still had to reach Highgarden.
“I wasn’t fighting.
I just…
got scared for you,” Sam muttered.
Arthur grinned.
“Next time, just get scared like that again.
Then nobody will bother you ever again!”
They looked at each other again.
Sam slowly nodded, as though he were seriously considering Arthur’s advice.
“Where are you from, Arthur?” he suddenly asked.
“The North?”
“You can tell?”
Sam looked embarrassed.
“Well…
a little.”
Arthur just grinned and said nothing.
He finished his last peach, wiped the juice from his chin, and stood up.
“All right.
I should go.”
Sam stood too, holding the book against his chest.
“Will we…
see each other again?”
“Maybe,” Arthur said with a smirk.
“If I ever end up in Tarly lands, I’ll definitely come visit.
Assuming you invite me.”
“Of course.
Come visit…”
Sam shook the hand Arthur held out.
Arthur left his wooden sword with him, then practically ran down the path toward the harbor.
He was already seriously late, and he could only hope the ship hadn’t left without him.
“See you, Sam!” the young sailor called before disappearing around the corner.
“See you…” the heir of Horn Hill murmured.
Then he paused.
Arthur had been speaking as though he knew Sam’s family name.
But Sam was certain he’d never actually told him what it was.
Arthur made his way down the paved streets toward the harbor, enjoying the cool breeze carrying the smells of salt, fish, and smoke from the many hearths.
His stomach growled.
After the fight and his conversation with Sam, he was absolutely starving.
Merchants were already closing their stalls along the road, selling everything from freshly caught fish to cheap amulets supposedly capable of bringing good luck at sea.
Arthur wondered if he should buy one.
Maybe it really would bring him a little extra luck?
But thoughts of saving money, getting some hot food, and rejoining the crew won out.
Finally, he reached the Blue Plum tavern, where his companions were supposed to be.
He’d been a little worried that the ship had already left or that someone had gone looking for him.
But the Black Betha was still in the harbor.
And the moment Arthur stepped through the tavern door, he was hit by a wall of noise, laughter, food, and wine.
“Ooooooh!”
Arthur froze.
“Look who it is!
The Terror of the Krakens!
Art!”
Arthur recognized Tom’s voice.
The burly, red-bearded sailor was already thoroughly drunk.
The man was famous for knowing countless songs, and for making some of them up on the spot.
He also had a talent for inventing nicknames.
“Arkt!
Arkt!
Arkt!”
The rest of the crew immediately joined in, banging their mugs against the tables and stomping their boots against the floor.
Arthur stood frozen in the doorway, his face turning red.
“Get over here, young sailor!
Time to drink!” Paul said with a huge grin, already placing a cup filled to the brim with amber liquid in front of him.
“But I…”
“Arkt!
Arkt!
Arkt!”
The sailors’ chant left him no choice.
Embarrassed, Arthur picked up the cup and cautiously took a sip.
The taste was surprisingly good.
It reminded him of a peach, only more sour, with a spicy, intoxicating note underneath.
“Drink it all!”
Arthur barely even realized what he was doing before he’d drained the entire cup to the roaring cheers of the crew.
And then…
“Wake up, young sailor!”
Something freezing splashed over Arthur’s head.
He yelped and jerked awake in his hammock.
We’re under attack?!”
He rolled straight onto the wooden floor and immediately reached for the sword at his belt.
Ray stood over him with a grin, holding an empty bucket.
“Nope,” the sailor drawled.
He handed Arthur the bucket, then the mop.
“It’s almost lunchtime, sleepyhead.
We’ve got plenty of work to do.
You’re not the only one who overdid it with the Arbor Gold last night.”
Arthur groaned and rubbed his head.
It felt like someone had thrown him inside a bell during the night and spent hours beating it with hammers.
Damn it…
I’m never drinking again.
He glanced at Ray’s amused face and realized he’d apparently said that out loud.
“Yeah, everyone says that,” the sailor chuckled, patting him on the shoulder.
“You’ll get used to adult life, lad.
You need to know how to drink, too.”
“And where…?”
“Your sword’s over there in the corner.
Your armor too.
I picked them up for you,” the boatswain said, understanding what Arthur meant.
“We’re already underway.
We left before sunrise.”
“Why so early?”
“Who knows…” Ray shrugged.
Davos had returned from the castle in a foul mood, but so far he hadn’t told him anything.
“Anyway, come on, young sailor.
Enough sitting around.
The deck isn’t going to…”
“I know, I know!”
Salt water ran from Arthur’s hair as he pushed the mop across the deck, working soapy foam into the dark wood.
At first, of course, he cursed Ray for waking him like that.
Soon enough, though, he decided to dump another bucket of water over himself.
The cool water felt wonderful against his skin, washing away some of the heaviness in his head left over from the night at the tavern.
The deck was hot beneath the sun, pleasantly burning his bare feet.
The work was boring, but familiar, and definitely better than cleaning the hold, where everything smelled of sweat, salt, and fish.
The deck itself was dirtier than usual, though.
The aftermath of their wild night, along with the mess left behind from moving supplies, wasn’t going to clean itself.
When he finally finished, Arthur happily answered the ship’s bell announcing lunch.
He grabbed his bowl and climbed above deck, leaning against the ship’s railing.
The sea was calm today, sparkling beneath the sunlight like scattered gold coins.
Arthur had never actually seen gold coins in person, but he’d always imagined them looking exactly like that.
The lords probably had plenty of them.
His thoughts drifted toward his new acquaintance.
I wonder how Sam’s doing…
“Arkt!”
Arthur turned at the familiar voice.
Mattos was standing in the doorway of the cabin, leaning on a cane.
His sun-darkened face was still pale, but he looked much better than he had on the day he’d been wounded.
“You’re already walking!” Arthur exclaimed in surprise.
He’d visited his friend several times, but Mattos had mostly been asleep, exhausted from the fever.
“The maester says I was lucky we got here so quickly,” Mattos sighed.
Until now, he’d done little except lie in his cabin.
“He cleaned out the infection and gave me some milk of the poppy.
I slept like the dead, but I’m feeling better now.”
Arthur smiled with relief.
“I was starting to think you’d leave us and go straight to the Drowned God, leaving me without anyone to train with,” he joked awkwardly.
He was genuinely glad Mattos was feeling better.
“Almost happened,” Mattos said with a grin.
“Though being stuck in that cabin wasn’t much better.
I spent days lying there.
I couldn’t even read properly.
When you can’t go anywhere, it starts to feel like torture.”
“Read?” Arthur asked with interest.
He realized Mattos was talking about having been taught to read, but he hadn’t known the boy had any books with him.
“What did you read?”
“Different things.
Mostly sea routes and The Song of the Sea…” Mattos shrugged.
“Books aren’t cheap.
My father bought a few, but most of them were left at the castle.
Why?
You want to read?”
Mattos gave Arthur a friendly grin, clearly teasing him.
Arthur still wasn’t entirely sure where Mattos came from, but the boy certainly didn’t look like someone who enjoyed reading.
Then again, Arthur himself wasn’t exactly a bookworm.
Still, the tutors his family had hired had drilled into him just how important and useful reading was.
Even his father had tried to learn, though he hadn’t gotten very far.
“It’s too late for him now,” the castle maester had told him, the same maester Stannis had assigned to his father at Cape Wrath.
Arthur thought about it.
After meeting Sam, his interest in reading had only grown.
“Yeah, if that’s okay,” he replied.
Mattos raised an eyebrow.
“You can read?”
“I can,” Arthur replied, slightly offended.
“What, do I look like a wildling?”
“To be honest…
yeah,” Mattos snorted.
“Especially after I saw you charging that guy.”
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“So, can I or not?”
“Sure, but only while I’m there,” Mattos agreed with a sigh.
“The last thing I need is for you to get fish guts all over the pages.”
“Hey, I’m careful!”
“We’ll see.”
Mattos waved him off.
“Come by when you’re done.
It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.”
Leaning on his cane, Mattos headed back toward the cabin.
Arthur grinned.
Looks like this day just keeps getting better.