The Wind of Change. book 1

"So I'm alone against the whole world?" I asked despondently.

"It all depends on you," the Warrior calmly replied to me. "True friends are not so difficult to find."

"And girlfriends," came the clear voice of Virgo.

"And girlfriends," the Mother agreed.

The Blacksmith and the Warrior nodded at the same time, and the Unknown added something in an unknown language.

"The world will not only try to kill you. Very often, he will help by giving happiness, love or hope. In completely unexpected situations, you can get help, find joy, and succeed", the old Woman explained. "You just need to be able not to pass by such moments."

"Will you come to the rescue?"

"This is undesirable. And difficult to do," After thinking about it, the Father replied.

"But is it still possible?"

"Whatever happens," the Mother replied. "It's not just up to us. But we can come to your dream, there, already in Westeros. And let's talk about it."

"And yet, in the most difficult moment, we will still try to help you," the Warrior added.

They all talked to me for a while longer. And only one Unknown remained stubbornly silent, as if he had filled his mouth with water. An eerie figure...

"I have to think about it," I finally gave the answer. "That's it, I can't solve it right away."

"You have three days. And then we will come for an answer," said the Old Woman.

All Seven figures began to disappear, melting away like smoke from a campfire. And I woke up.

Three days... Is it a lot or a little? Probably how to look at it, and what can be done in that time.

I was thinking. And I read it. And I was watching a TV series. And with such actions, it was as if I was playing giveaways with myself and leading everything to agree. Yes, why not? I was informed that no obligations were required of me. I just get into the world, I try to survive, to prevent (or win) a global war if possible. And what happens will be my reward.

So why not plunge into Westeros? Moreover, I am interested in him, and during this time I managed to thoroughly remember everything.

However, the first days frankly scared me. Yes, I've read books and reviewed all six seasons of the series. But I still haven't learned the customs, I don't know what people look like, how they talk to each other. It's going to be hard for me, damn hard, in these early days of adaptation.

However, there are always hardships and difficulties, even in everyday life. I may not succeed, but there's nothing wrong with that. I'm just going to lose an amazing chance. But nothing will happen to me -I'll wake up at home as if nothing had happened. The Seven of them promised me that firmly. Although I had a nasty idea that they were not telling me something.

So in the end, I accepted the challenge. This is what many of us dream about, and when we miss such a chance, we regret it for the rest of our lives.

And so I found myself at the "Crossroads" again and saw the Seven Gods.

"So, what's your solution?" My Father asks.

"I agree."

"We knew it," the Old Woman says with satisfaction, and the lantern in her hand flashes dazzlingly.

"So be it!" Father shouted.

And the world spun in my eyes. I saw some flashes, flashes of light, and felt like I was being pulled somewhere. And then it was gone....

Chapter I. Time for reflection

Abruptly, as if from a jolt, I woke up, came to my senses and slowly, cautiously opened my eyes, looking around.

I was in a spacious bedroom and was lying on a very large bed with numerous soft pillows and blankets. The bed itself looks exactly like the bed of an influential feudal lord — huge, with pillars, a canopy of unclear color and with incomprehensible patterns. I couldn't make out the details, since it was still early in the morning. Gray light was barely beginning to seep through the windows, which were covered with curtains and shutters.

Throwing back the covers and awkwardly, falling heavily on the softest mattresses, I crawled to the edge of the bed, sat down and put my feet on the stone floor covered with skins. He sat for a while, moving his fingers, looking around and getting used to his new body.

To my left was a bedside table with a metal bell on a long handle, as well as a low armchair on which numerous pieces of clothing were piled in a mess. It was very unusual, as if I had got into someone else's thing. And there was also a certain feeling of disgust and even shame — the body was unfamiliar and not mine!

I get up... My head is spinning, and my legs feel like they have no strength at all. I stood for a while, breathing deeply and getting used to the new state. The unpleasant and unusual sensations slowly passed.

I looked at myself. Of all the clothes I'm wearing, I'm wearing something resembling linen, soft mid-thigh briefs with a drawstring at the waist and two more laces at the bottom so that I can tighten them on my legs. The underwear is funny, there's no other way to say it. But I'm glad that it exists at all!

With a grunt, he couldn't resist loosening the straps and looking at his new men's household. A dick is like a dick, not big, but not small either. Average. And anyway, judging by my overall thinness and lack of fat, I'm still quite young. How old was Joffrey at the time of his death? Not much, but he managed to come of age. It's a good thing I didn't get into the child's body.

Speaking of Joffrey.... His personality was not visible in the body. But the memories remain. Anyway, I saw a key chain around my neck and immediately remembered that it was for a personal safe. So the Seven didn't cheat here either-I still have the memory of Joffrey's past.

Checking my memories, I quickly got my bearings and went to one of the cabinets near the wall. The doors creaked as I opened it, knelt down, and pulled back the sash. Under it, embedded in the bottom of the cabinet, there was a hiding place. I took the key off my neck and opened the lock on the door.

The safe was a roomy oblong box in which Joffrey kept particularly valuable items. There were several bags of money, a jewelry box, a couple of expensive trinkets, and a leather folder with papers. I was briefly surprised that Joffrey even had written documents. In any case, it's great that the young king still had the brains to keep valuable correspondence out of sight.

I scratched my forehead, but I didn't take anything from the safe, but closed everything, got back on my feet and began to explore the rooms.

The bedroom turned out to be a very spacious room with several closets, the already mentioned bed, armchairs and a desk with a pristine tabletop. Everything is clear here, Joff definitely did not like working at the table. Receiving emails is one thing, but writing responses is quite another. There was a loaded crossbow on the table. Is Joff afraid and calming himself down this way?

There were two doors in the room. One opened into a long corridor, in which a pair of candelabra with burning candles were attached to the walls — now, in the early morning, they were almost burnt out. I walked down the corridor, opened another door and found myself at a fork in the road — to the right was a room with a hole in the floor and a chair that looked more like an armchair upholstered in soft leather, and the back and armrests were covered in velvet. There was an oval hole in the seat. Presumably, this is a lavatory and a royal toilet seat — comfortable and soft, so that the autocrat, God forbid, wouldn't hurt his crowned ass.

After relieving myself and trying not to think about the fact that this is the first time I've seen and held my entire body and its individual parts in my hands, I tied the ribbon on my underpants and went to the bathroom. There were a couple of small and empty stone bathtubs, a barrel and several jugs of water, as well as a huge mirror and hygiene items.

The light came through the narrow windows under the ceiling, but there was very little of it.

I saw myself perfectly — in full growth. A tall, thin young man with long legs and arms, broad shoulders.

The body is young and beautiful, very promising, if I may say so. Even if I didn't know who Joffrey's parents were, I could safely assume that both his mother and father were also beautiful and well-proportioned people. It felt like it was all for a reason, but the result of centuries of genetics to breed normal offspring. They should not have entered into closely related marriages yet!

I liked the head and the face too. Thick, golden hair almost to her shoulders, big green eyes, a thin nose, and a strong chin. But the lips are curved somehow capriciously. Yes, and facial expressions, and muscle memory tried to act independently, betrays an extremely spoiled and not too distant personality. I chuckled.

The body is beyond praise. However, the previous owner certainly did not deal with it. The muscles are poorly developed, the skin is white and too tender. Surely there's no stamina here, like a cat crying. I flexed my right bicep experimentally. Yeah, I wasn't impressed with the result.

Okay, we can deal with all this later. Leaving the chandelier in the bathroom, I went through the bedroom and out another door. I was glad that there was complete order with coordination, and the body itself gave the impression of a new thing, not spoiled by bad habits and excesses.

Now I was in the lobby. You can't call it anything else — it's a big square room. There was an impressive table for ten people with chairs, and in the corner there was another table for two or three people. There was a jug and a couple of goblets. Veined marble columns supported the ceiling.

I went over, took the decanter in my hand and sniffed the contents. It smelled of wine. Moreover, the smell is very subtle and invigorating. Unable to resist (they'll start killing me later), I poured a glass and took a few sips.

I have never tasted wine that is similar in quality and smell before! It smelled of the southern sun, warmth, and perfectly ripened, slightly dusty grapes. He was thirsty and thirsty...

Regretfully, he set down his glass. Alcohol cravings should be monitored. If there are such wines in Westeros, it's no wonder that King Robert got drunk.

Weapons hung on the walls — a pair of swords, an axe, a spear, a shield, and in the corner, on struts, stood a full knight's armor. But most of all there were crossbows. Apparently, my predecessor had an unquestionable liking for this type of weapon.

I couldn't resist picking up a few crossbows in turn. The weapon is serious. And some of them actually looked like a work of art — you can put them right in the museum!

Putting down the crossbows, I continued to get acquainted with my new home.

There were several exits in the hall. One led to a room that housed the royal wardrobe. I looked in there and couldn't help whistling... I've lived in an ordinary family all my life. I ate well and dressed well. Maybe I've never worn really expensive clothes, but I didn't have any problems with things.

There was something unimaginable here.... The open closet is literally filled with a multitude of dresses, doublets, tunics, raincoats, vests, trousers and leggings. There are simply countless of them — of various styles, colors and appearance. There was a separate shelf with boots, shoes and other footwear — at least fifty pairs.

Well, there's a rack with berets, hats, and everything else. Yes, there is also an impressive wardrobe with underwear, shirts and scarves. Of course, I knew that Joffrey had never been poor. But to be pampered so much... That's another detail of why he grew up that way.

In the center of the room, in a heavy metal frame, on stands in the shape of lion paws, there was a tall mirror. I looked at myself again. Well, Joffrey didn't have any problems with clothes with such a body — everything should fit perfectly on him. The main thing is to combine different colors correctly.

Calculating my future style and clothing preferences in my head, I returned to the hall, went to the door that led to the corridor, put my hand on the carved metal handle, but I did not open the door, but leaned my ear against it and listened.

Even at the very beginning, I could hear confident, solid snoring. Someone was sleeping outside the door. Joffrey's memory told him that one of the Royal Guardsmen stayed there every night.

I pushed on the door, but it hit something and wouldn't open. The snoring stopped for a moment, and then resumed. No longer hiding, I slammed the door against an obstacle on the other side.

"Who's there?" the snoring stopped and a sleepy, `rumpled' voice was heard. "In the name of the Seven!" It seems that whoever was saying this did not expect or was just not used to the fact that the king could get up so early.

There was a creak as something moved across the floor and the door opened. A medium-sized, bald man with sagging cheeks, short, powerful legs, and a wide chest, clad in white scaly armor, stared at me in fright.

"I am glad to see you, Your Majesty", The fat man covered his yawn with his hand, trying to look brave at the same time. "Something happened?"

"Not yet," Joffrey's memory told him that this man was Ser Boros Blount, one of the seven knights of the Kingsguard, an insignificant and foolish warrior. Joffrey sincerely despised him and never called him by his first name.

Ser Boros was now shifting awkwardly around his couch. Apparently, he dragged him close to the door, so that no one could accidentally enter, and was sleeping peacefully. He took off his helmet and placed it against the wall, as well as the sword scabbard.

I looked around the dark corridor, Ser Boros, nodded to him and returned to my room. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the knight took a deep breath. It seemed that Joffrey, with his mood swings, penchant for reckless cruelty or unreasonable and stupid humor, was feared here.

The door closed behind him. I scratched my chin. The knight sleeps at the battle post, guarding the king. Is this even normal or what? Is this a violation or is everyone doing this?

After thinking about it, I decided not to cut off my shoulder, not to do anything, but just find out how the guards should serve at night, and only then make a decision. Moreover, the fat man did not just sleep, but blocked access to my chambers with his impressive body.

Going to the window, I opened the curtains, then, after fumbling, I opened the shutters. Fresh, invigorating air rushed into the room. It smelled of sea breezes, seaweed, and rotting fish. I also caught a "hint" of shit-I think there were certain problems with the sewers in King's Landing.

I sat on the windowsill and looked out at the city. The sun was rising on the left, which meant that the windows faced south.