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GOT Chapter 48: A Man’s First Lesson!
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 03:42:00 +0000 UTCDusk fell over the western hills, and the sky gradually darkened.
But unlike usual, Winterfell did not sink into its typical nighttime stillness—where only the occasional bark of a dog or the grating call of a raven could be heard.
The arrival of the royal party had brought with it a rare liveliness to this frigid northern stronghold.
And now, all that clamor was concentrated within and around the Great Hall at the heart of Winterfell.
Four to five hundred people were crammed inside, the atmosphere buzzing with energy between the long banquet tables—cups raised, laughter ringing, voices overlapping in celebration.
Seated at the far end of the hall, Jon Snow found himself—for once—secretly grateful for being a bastard. At least in certain situations.
Though, truth be told, those moments were few and far between.
So, when he picked up the wine jug that had been passed down the line and refilled the empty cup he’d just drained, he suddenly realized: this might be one of those rare situations.
But just then, a voice from beside him cut off his thoughts.
“Pour me one too, squire!” said Kal, who was busy chatting with others, tossing his horned cup toward Jon without even glancing in his direction.
“Yes, ser…”
Jon, who had been about to sit back down on the bench, had no choice but to catch the cup and dutifully fill it with a generous serving of Summer Red.
He still didn’t quite feel comfortable doing this kind of work.
Kal reached out and took the cup back. Then, after licking the wine that had spilled onto the back of his hand, he couldn't help but remark: “Thanks. But next time, maybe tie a bit of string around the rim, would you? That way the wine won’t slosh out—it’s a shame to waste good stuff like this…”
“If I’m not mistaken, there should still be plenty of rope out in the stables~”
“And if I recall correctly, you lot have to restock this stuff from White Harbor, right? If I get the chance, I’ll suggest to Lord Stark that you handle the trading next time!”
Hearing Kal’s “compliments”, Jon suddenly felt the urge to punch someone.
It was only now that he fully understood just how sharp-tongued the knight who had so kindly taken him on as his squire could be when he felt like it.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t win in a fight.
So instead, Jon sullenly slumped back into his seat, wedged between a bunch of grizzled, smirking sellswords—imagining that perhaps his “lord knight” might’ve had a more fitting career as a jester in a traveling circus, making people laugh by picking on clowns.
That thought alone gave him a shred of comfort, a small mental victory that soothed his bruised pride.
Feeling a bit better, he lifted his own cup and took a small sip of the wine.
The rich, fruity aroma of the Summer Red filled his mouth, tugging a faint smile to his lips.
Inside the Great Hall of Winterfell, the air was thick with warmth and rising steam. The mouthwatering scent of roast meat and freshly baked bread swirled unrestrained through the room.
Kal, having just reached a natural pause in his conversation, let out a hearty laugh and leaned back slightly.
He grabbed a knife from the table, speared a chunk of stewed turnip, and tossed it into his mouth. As the fat melted into the savory broth coating the meat, he savored the flavor while letting his gaze drift past the crowd toward the surrounding stone walls.
Countless candles lit the vast hall as brightly as day, and the gray stone walls were now draped with banners from every house.
Before him, the banners fluttered proudly—white for House Stark’s direwolf of the icefields, gold for House Baratheon’s crowned stag, and crimson for House Lannister’s roaring lion.
Kal narrowed his eyes as he looked at them, lost in thought.
And in addition to the delicious aromas of food that filled the air, the hall was also thick with the more pungent scents of sweat, musk, and foot odor—a strange, heady blend that mingled with the heat of the feast.
Drifting over it all was the gentle melody of a song.
A bard was seated near the raised dais at the front of the hall, plucking his lute and singing loudly.
But between the crackling of the great hearth, the clatter of dishes, and the drunken din of the guests, Kal—who had chosen a seat all the way at the end of the long hall—couldn’t make out a single word of the lyrics.
Gazing at the lively scene before him, Kal lifted the cup Jon had filled for him and brought it to his lips.
Just as he was about to take a satisfying sip, his eyes suddenly widened—and the cup froze just short of his mouth.
His gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on the bard, partially obscured by shifting shadows and the movement of the guests.
A flicker of recognition lit Kal’s eyes, as if a memory had just surfaced.
But he said nothing.
Instead, a faint smile curled on his lips as he finished chewing the food already in his mouth and swallowed it down.
“How interesting. Too interesting…” Kal suddenly muttered in admiration, for reasons only he knew.
“What’s interesting, boss?!”
Kossi, seated beside Kal and visibly tipsy, leaned in, having caught part of what Kal had said and asking on impulse.
“The story’s finally getting interesting~…” Kal replied with a grin, raising his cup again to his lips—but clearly not intending to explain any further. He simply tilted his head back and gulped down two big mouthfuls of wine.
Not that Kossi really cared for an explanation either. He just chuckled, shrugged, and wiped the grease off his chin with a sleeve.
Then he turned his eyes toward a fourteen-year-old boy who sat surrounded by a crowd of men, looking a bit lost and overwhelmed.
“Sure, boss, the story’s fun and all… but I prefer other kinds of fun. Heh~”
“But hey—what made you pick that kid to be your squire? Just ’cause he’s a bastard too?!”
“And isn’t he kinda too old for that anyway?”
Kossi mumbled out his questions through bleary eyes, completely unaware—or uncaring—of whether his words might offend someone.
Kal glanced sideways at the fool, whose tongue loosened with just a bit of cheap grog.
Then he replied coolly, “If you were a bastard, maybe I’d consider taking you on as my squire too—and I wouldn’t even mind the inconvenient fact that you’re pushing forty.”
Sensing the irritation in Kal’s tone, Kossi finally picked up on it. He scratched his head and gave a sheepish grin, pretending to be a fool.
But then his eyes darted left and right before he leaned in close to Kal’s ear, grinning slyly.
“Boss, I didn’t get to witness your glorious moment today, but guess what I did discover?!”
Kal, catching a whiff of his foul breath, leaned away instinctively, but still furrowed his brow and played along with a question.
“Oh yeah? What did you find—some talking she-dragon?”
“And where the hell were you, anyway?!”
Kal actually was curious where this bastard had disappeared to earlier.
Kossi had been waiting for that question, and just as he was about to boast with his gap-toothed grin—
Hall, who had also been listening from nearby, didn’t hesitate to call him out and ruin the moment.
“Boss, don’t listen to Dogtooth’s bullshit. The bastard went to a brothel!”
“What do you mean, went to a brothel?!” Kossi shot back, eyes wide. “I was gathering intel! Information is survival, don’t you know that?!”
But Hall and the others clearly weren’t buying a word of it. They immediately erupted into jeers and laughter.
“Oh, sure, intelligence gathering—then tell us, which one’s the prettiest whore in town?”
“Don’t tell me this frozen-ass place, where your nose falls off just walking outside, actually managed to grow a pretty flower?!”
Hall’s mocking only made Kossi’s eyes light up.
“There actually is one!”
That shut everyone up for a moment. Hall and the others paused, surprised at how genuinely he said it—the teasing looks on their faces slowly giving way to intrigue.
“Oh? What’s her name? What’s she look like?!”
Even Jon, who’d been sitting silently nearby, turned his head toward the conversation. He usually didn’t feel like he belonged in these talks, but this time, his curiosity got the better of him.
In the flickering candlelight, no one noticed the flush on his cheeks—though his eyes were bright with interest.
Kossi puffed out his chest with pride and declared boldly, “She’s a girl with flaming red hair. Name’s Ros!”
Hearing the name, Jon froze.
He knew that girl. He’d even paid for her once.
But in the end, he hadn’t gone through with it—because he was afraid. Afraid of leaving behind a bastard of his own. He’d suffered enough with that burden all his life.
He also knew that Theon Greyjoy was one of her regulars.
Kal’s interest piqued instantly.
“Ros? Red hair? And good-looking, too?”
He rubbed his chin, then turned his eyes toward the boy—who was clearly doing a terrible job of hiding his emotions.
“Well then… I’ve got a mission for you lot.”
“I want you to take my new squire to pay her a visit tomorrow. Because I’ll be damned if my squire learns to kill with a sword before he even knows how to handle his trousers properly.”
“I’m not having people laugh behind my back!”
“So let this be his first lesson in becoming a man.”
