At the moment, all of the names suggested had failed the field test. The test was conducted in groups, putting ten men together, and then tasking each man to take turns leading and ordering their team to cross through a plotted hurdle while finding a suitable way to cross it.
The exercise required leadership and reasoning. There were also group discussions, where Wylis had personally asked them questions and told them to discuss them. The questions ranged from the state of the realm, the importance of laws, and the role of the crown.
Sadly, since all of the men came from smallfolk, they lacked the knowledge to make decisions. Their arguments were basic, based on rumors and tales they'd heard growing up.
I lucked out with Chett, I guess.
Tired, he tore all the parchments and put them in a dustbin beside his table. He reclined back in his cushioned chair and looked towards the window. The sun was bright that day, and the distant sound of the town breathing was audible.
At the time, the economy was surviving on the construction boom he'd forced. But eventually, he knew he'd have to transition into other industries.
Silently, he summoned the Tyrant's Squire to look at the unfinished quests, his titles, the women, and the shop. As he looked at the quest that told him the location of the dragon eggs and Valyrian steel, he thought of the locations.
One marked location was in the ruins of Summerhall.
Probably eggs there.
Knowing the history of that place, eggs made the most sense to him. Aegon V tried to hatch them there, after all.
Then there were some locations marked in Dorne. He believed they were related to the wars the Crown had fought to bring Dorne into the realm. There could be Valyrian steel, he believed. As for the Reach, he knew Hightowers were close to the Crown, so the possibility of more steel was there.
And finally, there were half a dozen markers on Dragonstone. The possibility of them both being eggs and Valyrian steel was very high. Too bad, last time he was there, he was in a hurry to escape. And now it was Stannis' fief.
At least the Maester training is going well.
There was only one Wylis with Tyrant's Squire, after all. Wylis knew that to spread his knowledge and skills, he needed to build schools, train the first batch himself, and then expand from there. Qyburn was doing that at the moment, much to the mad doctor's annoyance.
Creak!
"Dad! Dad!"
Suddenly, the door to his solar was pushed open, and in came running Magnus. Big for his age, the boy was cute and chubby. But at the moment, his eyes were filled with tears, and fear on his face.
"Hide me, Dad! Hide me!"
Without asking, Magnus ran to his side and crawled underneath his table to hide.
Bam!
Just then, Lyanna appeared, kicking his door open. She was panting from all that climbing, her hands on her hips, eyes narrow in anger. "Where is he?"
What's this now?
Wylis didn't rat his son out just yet. "What happened?"
"Your son nearly killed Aegon," Lyanna nearly roared in anger. "I found him playing with my sword, Wylis. My sword. A real one. He forced Aegon to take up a dummy blade and fight him. He would have killed him if Rhaenys hadn't struck him and torn the sword from his hands. And even then, he turned on her, trying to take it back, and hurt Rhaenys."
At that point, Wylis grabbed his son's collar by the nape under his table and pulled him up like a cub. He dangled Magnus in the air over his table. "Boy, did you do all that?"
"I-I… I just… Dad, I just wanted—"
Magnus couldn't even finish explaining as he broke out into tears and loud sniffles, face messy and nose runny.
Wylis sighed. This was a part of parenting. And Magnus needed it the most. The boy was gifted in too many ways. While he could teach, how Magnus would turn out in terms of personality was all fate's decision.
"You want to be a sword-slinging warrior?" Wylis got up suddenly, and held Magnus under his right arm by his chest. "Lyanna, shut the ledgers and lock them away. I'll give him his lesson."
Suddenly, Lyanna grew worried. No matter how angry, she was a mother. "What will you—"
"He's my son as well, Lyanna. And he's not so afraid of you if he came running here. I may dote on them, but I know when to be firm. Fear not, I've no mind to beat him senseless. That only breeds fear. I want him proud and just, and for that, he must learn the weight behind a blade's swing."
Lyanna nodded in the end, saying nothing.
Wylis walked out of his solar, down the stairs of the tower. Magnus was still crying and sniffling. He said nothing on the way, knowing how much the children fear silence more than words.
Finally, he arrived in the small armory within the castle where his personal armor was stored. There, he placed Magnus on the ground and locked the door behind him.
"Wipe away the tears," Wylis ordered, looking down at the four-year-old, who looked tall enough to be called six or seven years old. But there was still a lot of innocence behind those blue eyes. "You want to swing blades? Very well, I'll let you. Go and grab a sword."
Magnus looked up, scared and crying. "S-Sorry, Dad… I'm sorry."
"No. When you make mistakes, you own up to them. Sorry does nothing when blood is spilled," Wylis declared and personally grabbed a light, real, sharp short-sword and forced it into Magnus' hands. "You will fight me now."
Wylis grabbed a simple training sword and struck right away. He let Magnus feel the weight behind the clash. Wylis, of course, held back immensely, but for a child, it was still a lot. Magnus instantly fell back on his ass.
I'm sorry, Magnus. But you must learn this lesson early. You're too strong for a child.
"Get up!" Wylis ordered, much louder now. "Use that damn blade! That's what you wanted, isn't it? Swing it!"
"S-Sorry…"
Pat!
Wylis smacked the flat side of his training sword on Magnus' shoulder, knocking him to one side. It didn't hurt much, but it had to sting.
Pat!
He repeated that, hitting Magnus' shoulders, then on his back. Each time he pushed Magnus around, sometimes throwing him to the floor. It bruised the boy; it made him grumble and cry. But Magnus got up each time and held onto the sword.
Clash!
Once again, Wylis clashed the blades and sent Magnus tumbling back. He had to be careful so the boy wouldn't mistakenly injure himself with his own sword. And it was tough on Wylis; he loved Magnus, as he loved all else.
With a clenched jaw, he continued. Magnus was someone Wylis had to give more attention to. The boy had too much potential, but if he turned out like Joffrey Baratheon, then the damage would be far too much.
"Dad! Sorry!"
Thud!
Wylis clashed the blade and sent Magnus falling again. With tears and a runny nose, Magnus was panting. Yet, surprisingly, there was no rage in those childish eyes. Just fear and sadness. The tears were real.
Since Magnus had a much higher intelligence than normal children and was likely to remember this incident forever, Wylis had knowingly decided to teach him this lesson in private. He feared the public humiliation would only damage Magnus's self-confidence.
"Is that all you got, son? I thought you wanted to swing blades."
Thud!
He pushed Magnus again. He wanted the boy to lash out and show anger. But no matter what, Magnus kept apologizing constantly. At that point, it scared Wylis more that the boy may simply not have the ability to rage.
Thud!
"Ugh!"
There it is.
At last, he saw the signs. Not mindless rage, however. More like a cornered cub trying to growl.
Woosh!
"Haaaa!"
Finally, Magnus shouted, raised the short sword, and made a clumsy swing. This time, however, there was no clash. Magnus saw his sword's edge land straight on Wylis' shin. It cut through the trousers and…
Clang!
"No! Dad!" Magnus let go of the sword immediately and zoomed over to Wylis' leg. He pushed the trousers up and cried harder. "F-Forgive me!"
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Advance chapters on [PATREON] are in long-form format. I have 12 long chapters of this story on P@treon. That's equal to 45-50 Webnovel chapters.
Check out Solo Dacey Mormont & Wylis X Elia NSFW art, and advance chapters at [email protected]/MrPlotThickens Or Subscribestar.adult/mrplotthickens
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