Hardship

Over the next few days, Suleiman spent all his time in the so-called castle yard—a muddy patch without even a wall—getting used to and exploring the remarkable changes in his body.

Martial prowess was the first essential for surviving in Westeros. After all, this world was rife with monsters and demons; relying solely on someone else's strength wouldn't get you through the first round of the game of thrones.

Every swing of his sword, every dodge, every step let him feel that incredible lightness and coordination.

Suleiman stuffed sacks with dirt and tied them to his arms and legs.

Even so, he could move quickly through the mud, turn, and leap. His lightness, reflexes, and speed were so fluid that they far exceeded his understanding.

He felt like an elite brother from a game he'd played on Blue Star, Battle Brothers, with all his points invested in light armor and agility.

He darted through enemy ranks, stabbing and thrusting with a light rapier.

This swordplay, as fluid and beautiful as a dance, was Suleiman's most distinctive ability.

His keen senses let him immediately detect Old Nicken approaching on tiptoe.

"Old steward, have you finished taking stock of the territory?" Suleiman turned and sheathed his sword.

Old Nicken stooped as he tremulously handed over a sheet covered in writing, his face wearing a complicated expression that seemed difficult to voice.

"Young Master Suleiman, I've finished counting everything. Please take a look."

Suleiman took the parchment and glanced over it. His eyes suddenly widened. There were several figures on the page, but the central information made him feel dizzy.

Suleiman read the lines, "Granary: enough for four people for seven days" and "Treasury: empty," and felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to his head.

He'd assumed that even if there wasn't much, there would at least be a little left over. Enough to last a while, at least, so they wouldn't be plunged into dire straits at once.

"What happened?!" Suleiman's voice trembled with disbelief, his cheeks twitching violently.

Old Nicken lowered his head even further. His voice held deep helplessness and a faint sigh. "Young Master, have you forgotten?"

He fell silent for a moment, then continued:

"That day, you ordered this old servant to divide all the grain in the granary among the families of the farmers who went with Old Lord to Seaguard and died in battle. You also ordered every coin in the treasury to be distributed among the households as compensation."

Suleiman froze. He remembered.

His grief that day and his sympathy for the farmer Hark's family had led him to make that decision.

He'd used the family's last remaining resources to provide for the households that had lost their breadwinners after those men were called up by the family and sent to war.

It would help them survive for at least the next few months, until the next harvest.

"Though this old servant didn't understand, it was your command, and I carried it all out. I distributed everything as you instructed," Old Nicken said quietly.

He was the steward of this family and had devoted his whole life to serving House Foulkeep. Though he couldn't understand why the money should be given to the smallfolk, other lords in Westeros would have been considered saints if they refrained from taking their subjects' food during years of war and famine.

Yet his Young Master Suleiman had generously given the grain to the smallfolk.

But his loyalty to House Foulkeep was carved into his bones. No matter how confused or troubled he felt, he would carry out his young master's orders without hesitation. Young Master Suleiman was all that remained of House Foulkeep, and he was its head.

He had served House Foulkeep for generations. Serving the family and remaining loyal to it were the whole meaning of his life.

Suleiman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn't expected his act of "mercy" to drive the family straight into bankruptcy.

He'd made that decision because he'd hoped to win people's loyalty.

Now he was the "fool" who'd given away the family's food supply.

"There isn't even a rat left in the granary." Suleiman gave a bitter smile. The words on the paper were so bleak.

The only consolation was that those families at least had a chance to survive for now.

His mercy might have planted a seed in the hearts of his subjects, the surviving farmers, and the families of those who'd died in battle. But at this moment, it was utterly useless.

Now he had to solve his own problems. Foulkeep would soon run out of food. If he stayed home, he'd be waiting to starve to death.

All he could do now was hope his liege would be generous and help him out.

"Steward Nicken," Suleiman said, his voice steady once more, "I must leave for Deddings Town immediately."

"Leave now? But Lord Balon Dating is still in Seaguard, defending against the Ironborn." Old Nicken looked up in surprise.

"Yes, I'm going to pay my respects to the lady of the house," Suleiman explained. "I have to set out before the castle runs out of food.

"And I need to tell her about the family's predicament and ask for her help."

More importantly, he needed to freeload at Deddings Town so he wouldn't starve to death in his own tower.

"What about Foulkeep?" Old Nicken asked anxiously.

"You'll stay behind." Suleiman looked at the old steward. "I trust you, Steward. You'll remain at the castle and look after the subjects who are left. I'll take care of things in Deddings Town as quickly as I can and bring back food."

At his young lord's sudden declaration of trust, tears filled Old Nicken's eyes. He nodded firmly. Though he was worried about Suleiman going out alone, he knew this was their only option.

If he stayed here, he could at least do his best to keep this territory from collapsing.

"Minor nobles like us don't have maesters." Suleiman sighed. Maesters held a high status in A Song of Ice and Fire; only the great nobles could afford to keep one.

Minor nobles like them were so poor they were eating grass. They couldn't even dream of keeping a maester. Fortunately, the old steward had a lifetime of management experience and could govern in a maester's stead.

"I'll take Lushen and Roslyn with me," Suleiman said.

"Yes, Young Master Suleiman," Old Nicken replied.

As their lord, Suleiman didn't need to ask his two guards for their opinions. He could simply order them to come.

But he thought he should let them know in advance, so they could prepare themselves mentally. He summoned Lushen and Roslyn and asked them to join him in the rudimentary "study."

When Lushen and Roslyn entered, they looked somewhat uneasy. They stood respectfully before Suleiman.

Suleiman looked at them. They'd diligently guarded the tower over the past few days, and their loyalty and earnestness were plain to see.

"I've decided to go to Deddings Town and pay my respects to the lady of the house," Suleiman said bluntly. "You two will come with me."

The two didn't hesitate at all. They nodded at once. "Yes, Lord Suleiman!"

Suleiman paused, then continued, "There's a more practical reason for this trip to Deddings Town. Foulkeep's granary is empty. There isn't enough food for all three of us."

He said it plainly, not feeling ashamed to admit his poverty to his guards.

Lushen and Roslyn exchanged glances. They'd already been braced for it, but hearing their lord say it aloud still shocked them.

"Also," Suleiman continued, his tone turning serious, "the rebellion in the Iron Islands is still going on. Though everyone says the king's army will arrive soon, once we reach Deddings Town, Lord Dating may call us up again to go to Seaguard and join the front lines in the bloody fight against the Ironborn."

At Suleiman's words, "the bloody front lines," Lushen and Roslyn shuddered.

The brutal scene from the day the Ironborn had tried to land was still seared into their minds.

They'd witnessed death and the Ironborn's savagery with their own eyes. They'd experienced that horror firsthand. It had been too cruel for farmers like them.

Now, to them, going to war meant going to their deaths.

Even so, they didn't back down.

They remembered how their lord had been found amid the corpses scattered across that muddy shore.

He was the one who'd woken and not punished them for mistakenly reporting his death.

He was the one who'd used everything the family had left to comfort those who'd lost their loved ones.

And he was the one who'd given humble farmers like them a reason to follow him as guards.

Lushen and Roslyn dropped to their knees with a thud. Tears ran down their faces, and their voices were choked but resolute.

"Lord Suleiman! We swear to follow you to the death! It's our honor to die alongside you!"

Lushen also spoke through a tremble. "Our swords are yours to command! It would be our honor to follow you into battle and die at your side!"

What was going on? Why were they talking about dying? Suleiman's cheeks twitched. What were they saying?!

"We... We let Old Lord down last time."

Roslyn wept as he spoke. "This time, this time we'll protect you with our lives! We won't retreat, even if we die on the battlefield! We'd be glad to die for you, Lord Suleiman!"

Lushen also chimed in. "That's right! We won't retreat, even if we die in battle. We'd gladly die for you, Lord Suleiman."

They knew this lord was different. He'd forgiven their crime and given them a new identity. He'd even given away everything he owned for the families of his subjects.

They believed this lord would never mistreat anyone who fought for him and House Foulkeep.

They were ready to die, all to repay his kindness.

Suleiman looked at the two men kneeling before him, their faces wet with tears and their eyes unwavering. Though their words sounded awful—so grating—he still felt a warmth rise in his heart.

The common folk of Westeros might be humble and unable to read a single word, but once they accepted someone, their loyalty could be so pure and profound.

He stepped forward and helped them up. "Get up."

He looked at their tear-streaked faces and smiled. "It's not so easy to get yourself killed. Don't worry. If you follow me, you won't die so easily."