The serving girl dumbly blinked towards Wylis.
"Ah? Want me to repeat it, girl?" Wylis asked.
"No, no, I remember it. I'll…"
Wylis took out a few copper stars and placed them on the table. "You get the rest after I get my food."
At that, the girl merrily took the coins and walked away to bring him the food. It was understandable as the quantity and type of food he wanted was expensive. And dining and dashing must not be that rare.
"Hmph!" Wenda scoffed at Wylis as she received her cup and jar of cheap ale. "You're the first bloody man I've seen who doesn't drink wine."
"Oh, I drink now and then—maybe a dozen times a year, if that. Not that I don't enjoy it, but I avoid it since excessive wine makes sperm count less."
Wenda frowned. "Spa-what?"
Wylis chuckled and intently looked into the woman's brown eyes. "It makes cock juice less potent—Excessive wine, I mean."
Pfff!
"Agh…" Wenda coughed out the wine she was drinking, not expecting that response. "Is… Is that all you ever think of?"
"Can't fault a man for chasing his dream—mine just happens to involve siring a lot of children. And I'm not wrong, either. Have you ever wondered why so many lords and ladies struggle to have heirs? Too much wine, too much greasy food. Soft living makes for weak seed."
Just then, the serving girl brought Wylis his food. Well, some of it since his order was pretty large. He received the milk and whole chicken right away, and the eggs were still being boiled.
All that time, Wenda was silent, as if thinking of something. She was recollecting all the nobles she knew who had trouble conceiving kids and the more she thought, the more sense it made.
She then eyed Wylis and wondered how potent he was, if he took such care of himself. She'd never seen him drink wine. Each time they stopped at a tavern, he ate eggs, drank milk, and ate a lot of meat and vegetables. The man clearly knew what he was doing.
BAM!
"Hahah!"
"That little shit…"
"Bahaha!"
All of a sudden, the entire atmosphere inside the tavern changed. All the other guests shrank their necks and looked down. The serving girls revealed faces filled with fear. Six men had just entered through the tavern door, all looked big and rough, some with scars, not the knightly sort.
"Tsk!"
As they walked past his table, they eyed his food, sneered, and continued walking… almost.
"Well well, look what the wind blew in." The man with a big, dark mustache stopped and stared at Wenda. "That scar, that pretty face, ain't that the White Fawn herself? Thought I'd have you squealin' last time you showed your arse 'round here. Don't tell me you came back to peddle that sweet little slit now that Simon's cold? Lookin' for coin or cock, eh?"
Wylis, who had just started eating the veggies with a wooden spoon, suddenly started to bite the wooden spoon itself while smiling, a big, sinister grin. "Wenda, are these your comrades?"
Wenda nodded, frowning, gritting her teeth. "They're the ones I was talking about."
"JACKPOT!"
Bam!
It happened so suddenly. Wylis roared at the top of his lungs and stood up to his full height. The six men were shocked by his height, and by the time they could stop gawking at him, he had already broken his wooden spoon into a sharp, pointy stick. The closest man to him, the one mocking Wenda, received that wooden spike straight into his eye socket, sinking deep until his brain was stabbed.
"Aaaargh! M-My aaaaah!"
The man bled through his face and fell down while screaming, dying with intense seizures as the brain was truly fucked up from the inside.
Still in shock, Wylis jumped onto the other five men, all the while smiling. The place was so narrow that he didn't bother taking out his sword. And the five men also fumbled.
Woosh!
He jammed the same pointy spoon into one bandit's temple, a clean hole that severely damaged the brain.
Thud!
As the second one fell, the last four men had taken out their short swords. Wylis smiled and grabbed his jar of milk and…
SPLASH!
"Aaaargh!"
Two of the four men recoiled in absolute pain as their faces were burned by the hot milk. Wylis focused on the other two, however, and knelt, stabbing the wooden spoon straight into the man's groin.
"Gaaaaa-agh!"
As the man grabbed his crotch and leaned forward, Wylis stabbed the eye again and killed the man with another deadly brain injury.
He was fast, so fast, and used whatever was around him. As fear took over the remaining three men, he targeted the two who had their faces burned, grabbed their throats, and pushed them backward.
It was a hearth, lit on fire with a pot of hot water boiling on it.
Bam!
"Aaaaargh!
"N-Naaaaaah!"
The two men writhed in pain, burning, getting drenched in hot, boiling water. But Wylis didn't allow their faces to get ruined too much and pulled them out of the fire. After that, he stabbed the sharp spoon into their throats, killing them.
Finally, one man was left.
"S-Stay away from me!"
The man tried to run away. But Wylis just threw that spoon toward the man's nape. It wasn't enough to kill, but it did sting and the man fell just as he reached the door.
Wylis walked over, put a heavy foot on the man's back, grabbed his spoon, and for good, killed him with a stab in the neck.
So abruptly, chaos had broken out. So abruptly, silence prevailed. There were at least a dozen travelers eating there, and all dumbly stared at Wylis, some in fear and others in absolute awe. The tavern girl, the cook, and a few other servers watched him in fear.
"What's with the faces? I'm Wylis of Winterfell, the one who won the Tourney at Harrenhal and cracked Prince Rhaegar's teeth. These lot were bandits, plain and simple. King's orders say I hunt them, so here I am." Wylis declared and saw faces ease up. But that wasn't enough, reputation wasn't easy to build. He took out a silver stag and tossed it to the serving girl.
"That's for the mess, and bring me another jar of milk, would you? And don't fret over the corpses—I'll drag them out once I've eaten."
The wooden creaks of benches and the fire crackling were the only things heard. Wylis went back to his seat and started eating the chicken. He felt Wenda's eyes and looked up at her. She sat frozen there.
"What? Not the first time you saw me kill men."
"With a fucking spoon? No! Never! There were six of them, Wylis, how in the…" Wenda lost words and downed an entire cup of ale before pouring herself more. "Gods, you're a beast."
Wylis just chuckled and ignored her rambling about how much they could have done if he'd been a member of her group. She was aware not to mention being a bandit, though.
Later, after finishing eating, he and Wenda dragged out the dead bodies. They dragged them into the forest, where he then beheaded them, and stored the heads in a sack. He was initially very sensitive to that action, but after twenty beheadings, it didn't move him. And knowing they were bandits and rapists, he didn't feel that bad.
Soon enough, the two returned to their camp where they lit up a fire. They traveled with two tents, hers was small, and his was slightly larger. They were simple ones, hitched with just two sticks at two sides, with only one side kept open towards the fire.
With it still being winter across the Seven Kingdoms, the nights were chilly. So, Wylis made the fire slightly bigger before sliding into his tent to get some sleep. Like always, he kept a dagger ready beside his small pillow.
Having no close company at night, it was common for his thoughts to steer towards home. Winterfell was indeed home to him. Birthplace of his second life.
Wonder what that crazy bitch's doing right now.
He often thought of Lyanna. Her confession that night. He didn't want to, but it somewhat made him happy to believe that she was being honest.
Knighthood first.
Reaffirming his goal, he shut his eyes for good and turned sideways to fall asleep, pulling over the animal hide he used as a quilt. His feet extended towards the opening of his tent, keeping his feet warm.
Crunch!
But then footsteps echoed. His eyes jumped open and he looked out. Two toned, white legs came into view, pale, spotless, hairless, feminine.
"Wenda?"
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