Bloodlines and attributes / The bastard of Driftmark ...

Stannis had broad shoulders, powerful limbs, a taut face, and skin hardened like iron by years beneath the blazing sun. He was not old, but only a thin fringe of black hair remained on his head, circling behind his ears like the shadow of a crown. His beard was short and neatly trimmed, a blue shadow covering his square jaw and the hollows beneath his cheekbones. As he passed, the crowd's cheers grew more subdued. People thought of Stannis as a lump of iron, and few loved him.

Things were different when Renly appeared. Dressed in embroidered green velvet, with a golden Deer brooch fastening his gold cloak, he was lavishly adorned from head to toe. The lord looked remarkably like King Robert in his youth: tall and handsome, with black hair falling to his shoulders. The difference was that Lord Renly was not an unstoppable warrior like his elder brother, nor was he renowned for valor. Lord Renly waved to the crowd, and their cheers swelled several times louder than before.

King Robert laughed heartily, unbothered. Stannis, however, glanced at his brother with a deep frown. Gendry noticed the difference in their expressions-the anger in Stannis's face, and the king's complete disregard for it.

Stannis's clothing and adornments were nowhere near as lavish as those of his younger brother Renly. This was partly because Stannis was more frugal, but also because Dragonstone, though strategically important, was a barren place. Storm's End was clearly larger and richer than Dragonstone, something Stannis had always bitterly resented.

"The Knight of Flowers?" Gendry spotted another boy, young and slender, wearing beautiful armor. His green surcoat bore three golden roses blooming upon a green field. The boy seemed inseparable from Renly. He had long, flowing brown hair and a pair of lovely golden eyes. He too waved to the crowd, and the people cheered the noble young son of House Tyrell. The people of King's Landing liked beautiful faces.

They're certainly close, Gendry thought. The youngest son of House Tyrell had supposedly been fostered at Storm's End as Renly Baratheon's squire.

The king's procession swept onward toward the great sept. Only after they had all passed did the Gold Cloaks lift their cordon.

What a mess! Gendry thought. King's Landing was a tangled stew of factions: Robert and his two brothers, the Lannisters, Lord Jon, and the Spider and Littlefinger lurking in the shadows. He had little inclination to concern himself with shifts in the political situation. All he wanted was to escape his fate as a pawn as quickly as possible and find some safety.

"Our fat king! Unbelievable!" an elderly woman complained. "He was so handsome when he was young-a clean-shaven, strapping man with clear, captivating eyes, the sort young girls dreamed of. But look at him now!"

"Keep your voice down. If a man indulges too much in wine and whores, even his warhammer will rust," her husband chimed in, unable to resist once he saw the Gold Cloaks had gone.

"It's rare to see all three stags out together. The High Septon must have quite a pull. Is it their faith?"

Four stags, Gendry thought. There's a wild one too.

"Faith, my arse! I reckon they're going to borrow money from the High Septon."

Chapter 4: Bloodlines and attributes

Only after King Robert and his two brothers had gone far away did the Gold Cloaks relax their guard. The king's splendid procession headed for the Great Sept of Baelor, while the apprentices left the White Sept with the flow of the crowd.

"Stannis, what are you thinking about?" Renly urged his horse forward and addressed his nearly bald second brother, who seemed lost in thought. Renly had always been frivolous, and naturally he was hardly close to this stiff, stubborn elder brother. Stannis was too obstinate, and not handsome enough either.

"Nothing!" Stannis waved him off, but the sight of Renly's face only deepened his surprise. He thought he had spotted a tall boy in the crowd, but the boy had vanished an instant later. His face, build, and bearing closely resembled both the king in his youth and Renly. Edric, the boy fostered at Storm's End whose existence had disgraced Stannis, looked even more like that boy's own brother.

"I've never beaten Robert at anything!" Stannis said with a self-mocking smile. Power, looks, charm-even the number of children.

Perhaps I was mistaken. But why are Robert's three Legitimate Sons and daughters all blond, with none of House Baratheon's features, while these bastards all have black hair? Stannis suppressed his doubts and continued with the procession. He knew there was another of Robert's bastard daughters at the Eyrie in the Vale. Perhaps he could ask Lord Jon about her.

King Robert's redistribution of holdings had already sown the seeds of disorder. Renly had received Storm's End without earning it and had grown close to House Tyrell, while Stannis had been left with lonely, barren Dragonstone. A man who was always resentful would inevitably become suspicious of everything. Stannis was just such a man. He had always been dissatisfied with King Robert's treatment of him: he fared worse than the queen's relatives, and worse than his youngest brother Renly.

"Come along, children! Best not get too close to the king's Gold Cloaks. They're not exactly good-tempered!" Tobho led the apprentices back to the smithy along the same route.

"Those knights looked so splendid. I saw Barristan, but it seems Ser Jaime, the 'Lion,' didn't come this time!" Even after that river of steel-the king's procession-had gone far away, one apprentice still spoke enviously. Compared with blacksmiths, knights were far more dazzling and far more welcome.

"The Lion? You've probably forgotten that this Lord Jaime has another nickname!"

"Shut your mouth, boy. Watch what you say. I don't want trouble!" Tobho suddenly became stern and clapped a hand over the boy's mouth. There were too many powerful people in King's Landing. Keeping one's mouth shut was the way to live longer. House Lannister's red-cloaked lion soldiers could be seen everywhere in the city. The Lannisters had spent two generations building their influence here; they were not people the apprentices could afford to offend.

"Put away your dreams of knighthood, apprentices! Becoming a good knight costs at least a hundred gold dragons, and that's a fair price. Have you got that kind of money?" Tobho mercilessly shattered the boys' dreams. Hiring an instructor, having armor forged, obtaining a knighthood-all of it required gold dragons. For the children of ordinary blacksmiths and landless townsfolk, smithing might be hard, tiring work, but at least it put food on the table.

Gendry looked at his companions. Their faces still bore the sting of thwarted dreams. The fantasy of knighthood and the reality of smithing-that was life.

Tobho felt there really was one apprentice among them who might have a chance. He looked at Gendry beside him: tall, strong, and handsome. Unfortunately, his parentage was a troublesome matter. There was some envy in Gendry's deep blue eyes too, but he was much calmer than ordinary boys.

The king no longer looks young. He's like a wild boar now. This boy hasn't noticed his resemblance to Renly, and that's a good thing, Tobho thought.

Gendry did not particularly idolize knights or kings. He merely envied the freedom of their lives, unlike his own life of fear and apprehension. King's Landing was a complete mess now. If he stayed, he would inevitably be caught in it. He needed a good way out.

"Children, any village blacksmith can forge a suit of armor. So why can we charge more? Because what I forge is art, and my craftsmanship is the best in King's Landing." When the mood took him, Tobho would share his experience with the apprentices. "So you must understand more than smithing. You must know how to deal with those lords, learn some reading and languages, and know a little mathematics and drawing. Then you'll be a smith who can command a high price."

Gendry nodded as he listened. The finest blacksmith in King's Landing certainly knew how to sell his own story. The metal itself was the same, but to sell it for a high price, one had to please those nobles and lords.

Still, Gendry knew Tobho had not told the whole truth. Tobho's greatest strengths were two techniques. One was infusing color into fine steel, beside which painting and enameling were child's play. The other was his ability to forge Valyrian steel-or rather, to reforge it. Gendry was curious about that, however, because the people of Qohor guarded their techniques jealously. Anyone who secretly learned and divulged them would have their arms cut off.

Of the different levels of smithing, I'll probably only learn painting and enameling. Tobho won't share those two supreme techniques. Besides, having to stay here eight or ten years just for a glimpse of his core techniques is far too impractical.

Gendry still liked the way Tobho trained his apprentices, for the man was a master weaponsmith. Though their lives still consisted of monotonous smithing, Tobho also had people teach the apprentices other skills: mathematics, languages, and drawing. Without a sense of beauty and artistry, one truly could not become a first-rate smith.

Gendry hungrily absorbed this knowledge so that he would not remain illiterate or be unable to find a way to feed himself. A smith's apprentice-a skilled worker-would always be in demand. Granted, Gendry's education could not compare with that of a great noble's son. They studied languages, literature, arithmetic, music, and history, along with a knight's specialized training in swordsmanship, riding, and archery. But that was only temporary. One day he would reach the open sea and find his freedom.

Clang! Clang! Gendry plunged an iron sword into the cold-water trough with a hiss. His work for the day was finished. The sword looked straight and handsome. It was not the best, but it already surpassed the work of a village blacksmith.

"Whew!" Gendry untied his leather apron, revealing his muscular arms. Day after day, perhaps tomorrow's ironwork would be better.

The workshop felt like a fire dragon's mouth. All Gendry could feel was the scorching heat of the flames. This really was one of life's three hardest occupations. He touched his short, coal-black hair, and a panel suddenly appeared before him.

[Gendry]

[Bloodlines: blood of the storm (activated, 30% awakened), blood of the true dragon (inactive), blood of the First Men (inactive), blood of the Rhoyne (inactive), blood of Garth Greenhand (inactive)]

[Talent: caste toughness (the stag's descendants are tall and strong, fertile and blessed with many children, producing offspring with black hair and blue eyes)]

[Skills: smithing: proficient, drawing: proficient, mathematics: proficient.]

Gendry looked at his bloodlines. He had practically stacked every buff available. Escaping King's Landing and finding somewhere to settle now seemed quite possible.

Gendry knew that many of these bloodlines came from his ancestor's marriage to Princess Rhaelle of House Targaryen. Princess Rhaelle's father was Aegon, the king of the common people. Her mother came from House Blackwood, her grandmother from House Dayne, and her great-grandmother from House Martell.

Gendry studied those bloodlines. Each generally possessed its own corresponding magic.

The blood of the true dragon might allow control over dragons and fire, while the blood of the Rhoyne meant manipulating the river's waters-the water wizards of the Rhoynar. At present, however, only the blood of the storm glowed. All the other bloodlines remained a solid gray, indicating that they were inactive. Of his talents, only caste toughness had awakened.

Gendry no longer felt lost. With this greatest trump card, he still had hope of changing his fate and the world.

Chapter 5: The bastard of Driftmark

In the year 296 of the Conquest Calendar, at a smithy on the Street of Steel in King's Landing.

Inside the barn filled with furnaces, Gendry lifted a heated breastplate of fine steel with tongs, plunged it into cold water with a hiss, and then hung it up to dry.

This was the task Tobho had assigned him: forging a breastplate for a customer in King's Landing.

Gendry suspected this young gentleman was not particularly wealthy. The breastplate was made of fine steel, without the fashionable paint or enamel, let alone the most expensive treatment of infusing color into the steel itself. Perhaps the customer was a minor noble, or a noble family's bastard.

Gendry inspected the breastplate with satisfaction. It was perfect, neat and even. Apart from the helmet, he had completed most of the armor.

This was twelve-year-old Gendry's life. Hammers and flames were his daily companions. Given his sturdy build and strength, the work was relatively easy for him.

Recently, Gendry had discovered a new talent besides caste toughness, also derived from the bloodline of the storm god. ["Storm Fury": when gravely wounded or enraged, unleashes fiercer and more powerful attacks.]

Gendry's favorite was a warhammer he had polished himself. A longsword might look better, but the warhammer was deadlier. Blunt weapons struck a broader area and were more lethal. Unless one encountered Valyrian steel, their power was unmatched.

Losing myself in smithing isn't necessarily a bad thing. It also draws less attention to me. If Gendry simply lived this way, content with an ordinary life, others would gradually lose interest in him. After all, it was perfectly natural for a bastard born in a tavern to settle into a blacksmith's life. Even the people around him at the smithy regarded him as an unremarkable young smith, let alone the Spider's minions. Tobho had also grown somewhat complacent. He was only a young blacksmith who occasionally asked a few extra questions; there was nothing wrong with him.

Occasionally, the older apprentices at the smithy would urge Gendry to go with them to Flea Bottom to watch dogfights, cockfights, or children with sharpened teeth fighting one another. Gendry went once or twice, then stopped. It was too bloody and cost money. As for the cheap brothels in Flea Bottom, the foreman strictly forbade all apprentices from entering them.

Gendry generally spent no money. Among the apprentices, he did more work and did it well, and because he did not spend recklessly, he had saved the most. He was already considering leaving King's Landing. Next year, a tourney would be held for the heir Prince Joffrey's twelfth name day, displaying the unity of House Lannister and House Baratheon. But the festivities belonged to other people and had little to do with him. King's Landing was a powder keg. It was best to stay well away.

Should I stay in Westeros and choose another city, or cross the Narrow Sea? Gendry considered both routes. Compared with Edric Storm, the king's noble bastard known throughout the realm, he was more obscure and somewhat freer.

Though the Spider regarded him as a pawn, he did not attach much importance to him. After all, there was a more legitimate and nobly born bastard at Storm's End. Gendry was merely a spare piece. The Spider's principal schemes still revolved around the Targaryen remnants in his hands, both those in the open and those in hiding.

The farther I travel, the wider the world! The blood of the true dragon, the blood of the Rhoyne-my opportunities will lie in Essos. Gendry had already decided on his escape route: keep a low profile and slip away to Essos first.

Just as Gendry finished his work, Master Tobho Mott entered the barn carrying a silver helmet. A helmet needed an attractive design, and the key to this one was the seahorse ornamentation on either side, with sea-green gems for the seahorses' eyes. It was a difficult piece, which Tobho had made himself.

Someone from House Velaryon? Gendry recognized the design as the emblem of House Velaryon of Driftmark. Though Driftmark's lords had once borne the honor of being the Lord of the Tides, House Velaryon had now declined into a second- or third-rate house sworn to Stannis of Dragonstone. Still, the Velaryons retained the pride of a fallen noble house, and it was hard to say whether their allegiance was sincere.

"Excellent work, lad!" Tobho praised him. "Your craftsmanship grows more accomplished by the day. You were born for this trade."

"A plain suit of armor is worth five gold dragons, but when it comes from Tobho's smithy, it's worth ten!"

The others looked on enviously at Tobho's praise, but physique was something one was born with. They could not hope to match Gendry's.

"Back to work, all of you! Spend less time thinking about chasing women, drinking, and gambling! Gendry, stay a moment!"

Gendry looked at Tobho in surprise.

In the courtyard, they met their customer: a man in a sea-green robe and a silver cloak, looking about him. Those were the colors of House Velaryon.

"Master Aurane, here is the armor you ordered!" Tobho showed Aurane the suit: fine plate armor, a gorget, greaves, and a full helm.

Aurane Waters was lean, with silver-gold hair and gray-green eyes. He was the bastard brother of Monford Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Earl of Driftmark. His appearance also bore some ancient Valyrian features. No wonder the queen dowager would later treat him as a substitute for Prince Rhaegar.

"A lifelike seahorse helmet! Children will want to touch it when they see it!" Aurane was very pleased and examined his armor carefully.

"As long as you like it!" Tobho said proudly. "To be honest, village blacksmiths make armor too, but what I make is art."

Aurane Waters looked as though he had seen a ghost when he caught sight of Gendry standing behind Tobho. For a moment, he seemed dazed.

"This is my apprentice. He works very diligently!" Gendry's hair was coarse and thick, as black as ink.

"Your parents, boy?" Aurane looked at Gendry, thought for a moment, and asked quietly.

"Gone, my lord!" Gendry gave a crooked grin.

"Come along, Lord Aurane. This child is an unfortunate boy. King's Landing is full of children like him." Tobho laughed it off with Aurane, feeling that he had been somewhat careless.

"Unfortunate. Like me, then." Aurane took two gold dragons from inside his clothes. "The first is because you're as unfortunate as I am. The other is a tip, boy."

Gendry thought for a moment and did not reach for the coins. "My lord, I'm an apprentice. The foreman pays me."

"What are you standing there for? Take them. This is a gift from Lord Aurane. The boy's as stubborn as an ox. There's nothing I can do about that. Please don't take offense!"

"Thank you!" Gendry accepted the two gold dragons.

"Well, my squire is still waiting outside. Now that I have this armor, it's time I returned to Driftmark! I prefer Driftmark's sea breeze to King's Landing." House Velaryon's bastard glanced at Gendry, then left.

Gendry put away the two gold dragons. It seemed he could not remain unnoticed after all. Still, even if Aurane had recognized him, he was unlikely to say much. He was too far removed from power to have any reason to risk himself.

As for those two gold dragons, at that moment they felt extraordinarily precious. A gift from one bastard to another.

Chapter 6: Departure and a new life

Gendry glanced at the helmet he had finished, resting on a bench in the smithing storeroom. It was shaped like a bull's head, with two curved horns. Though made of rough iron and left undecorated, its shape displayed an expert hand. The Great Bull Helm was too distinctive; wearing it would draw attention.

Though the master weaponsmith Tobho had treated him well at the smithy, staying there was not a long-term solution.

Farewell, smithy! Gendry silently thought. Then he took his small savings and a short-handled warhammer and walked out of the barn. One side of his warhammer had a sharp, beaklike spike, while the other had a hammerhead. Compact and vicious, it was a weapon few could withstand in a real fight, created to deal with the iron tortoise shell of plate armor.

Neither the foreman nor the maid stopped apprentices from going out. Older apprentices were free to take time off; the smithy was quite humane in that respect. They probably assumed Gendry would wander around King's Landing as usual and return for supper. He was an honest, dependable apprentice who never fought to prove himself, a skilled worker everyone liked. As for the short-handled warhammer, he had made it himself and carried it whenever he went out. Everyone was used to it. After all, public safety in King's Landing left much to be desired.

Gendry climbed the hill. The Great Sept of Baelor was bustling as usual that day. In the square, the white-haired High Septon, wearing a coat threaded with silver, read passages from The Seven-Pointed Star. A huge statue of Baelor I towered in the center of the square, standing serenely upon its pedestal with an expression of compassion for the world. Gendry saw the beautiful white marble square and joined the surging crowd visiting the Great Sept of Baelor.

Among the people listening to the prayers, Gendry overheard two men from the Vale speaking behind him. The Vale was the first region where the Andals had landed, and its people were deeply devoted to the Seven.

"Our lord is utterly loyal to the king, but he has little attention left for matters in our Vale! Whenever someone from House Tully speaks, Lord Jon takes it to heart and entrusts them with important duties. Especially that Littlefinger-he got in through our lady." Resentment lingered in the man's words.

"Enough. Best say less about Lord Jon's family affairs. As for Lord Jon always being in King's Landing, isn't that only natural? The king dreams, and the Hand of the King builds those dreams. The king can't do without our Lord Jon. Without him, how would the king have the leisure to hunt every day, hold tourneys, or chase women?" His companion, however, remained noncommittal.

"The king is certainly enjoying himself, but Lord Jon has worked far too hard all these years. He ought to return to the Eyrie and carefully raise his heir, that little falcon who's always crying."

"But at a time like this, when King Robert wants to wash his hands of everything, whom can he trust except our Lord Jon? Otherwise, Lord Jon wouldn't have spent so many years doing it."