The simple camp was quickly set up, and the first fire was lit in the clearing before the main tent, but it was immediately taken over by the chief logistics officer. Dinner had not yet been cooked, but Aegor boiled several pots of water in succession. After delivering them to the tent, he went back outside and sat down to wait. The nearby soldiers couldn’t help wondering what he was doing.

Fortunately, most of the group’s energy was consumed by setting up the camp and preparing dinner, so no one paid much attention to what was happening here. After patiently waiting for Arya to finish washing and changing, Aegor went back inside the tent, poured out the dirty water, and threw away her soiled trousers.

He felt like a babysitter.

But if the trouble could have ended there, he would have gladly accepted the role for once. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. After dinner, Arya mumbled that her stomach hurt again.

“There’s no maester or healer with us.” He scratched his head in frustration. “I’ll get you a hot towel. Press it against your belly.”

That solution didn’t last long. After cleaning up after dinner and settling down for bed, the girl came to him again with a pained expression. “Master, it still hurts a lot. It comes and goes… like someone’s stabbing me in the stomach.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Aegor’s scalp tingled. He resisted the urge to scratch his head and spread his hands helplessly. “Should I rub it for you?”

It was meant as a joke. Back before he crossed into this world, Aegor would say this to tease female friends when they complained of stomachaches, though he’d never actually rubbed anyone’s belly. Arya didn’t catch the helpless tone or the jest. Maybe she would have, under normal circumstances, but now the pain clouded her mind. She looked at Aegor with tearful eyes for a few seconds and whispered, “Rubbing… will it help? Why don’t you try it?”

“Why should I try it?” Aegor rolled his eyes, wondering if his little apprentice had gone mad from the pain. “Don’t you have hands?”

“Oh, right… then I’ll try rubbing it myself.”

“Hmm. It actually helps a little.”

“That’s good. Keep rubbing it yourself. I’ll walk around the camp. Stay in the tent and don’t wander.”

—

No one was a fool. The hundred soldiers Robb Stark had assigned to Aegor could clearly see that the dozen or so extra people traveling with them were the Kingslayer’s guards. However, these Westerlanders had put on black clothes in advance and kept a low profile, behaving with restraint, so there had been no conflict between the two sides.

This was a good sign, but Aegor didn’t intend to rely solely on the discipline or good sense of these rough men. He remained vigilant about the dynamics within the group, wary of potential unrest or infighting.

After arranging the night watch, he made a round of the camp and spoke to the more than two hundred people, who had naturally formed into small cliques. After thoroughly understanding their mindset and confirming there were no irreconcilable internal tensions, he fulfilled his duties as a sort of “political officer.” The sun had already set, and Aegor stretched and headed back to the tent.

Arya, for once, hadn’t been running around. She sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her belly and gritting her teeth. Seeing her miserable expression, Aegor asked with concern, “How are you? Does rubbing help?”

The girl was pale with exhaustion and had a despairing look in her eyes. “It helps a lot when I’m rubbing, but as soon as I stop, it hurts again.”

“Is that so… then keep rubbing.” Aegor gave the only advice he could offer at the moment and received a few soft groans in reply. He sighed, walked to the other side of the tent, blew out the lantern, lay down on his bunk, pulled the blanket over himself, and decided to call it a night.

He had headed north to avoid trouble, only to run into trouble of another kind… Aegor gave a bitter smile in the dark and tried to calm his thoughts. Compared to the major fallout the Night’s Watch could suffer by offending Renly, dealing with a bleeding little girl was a small matter. Just bear with it, and everything would be fine once they reached Winterfell.

He turned over and closed his eyes. It was around seven or eight in the evening. Back in his original world, this would have been the beginning of nightlife. But here, with nothing to do, sleep was the only option. He recalled that old joke about “high birth rates in pre-electricity times.” Relaxing his body and clearing his thoughts, Aegor tried to fall asleep quickly, as he had learned to do since coming to this world, in preparation for another early start.

Footsteps pattered nearby. Arya ran over to his bunk, knelt beside him, and nudged him. “Master—I can’t rub anymore. Please help me.”

“What? You want me to rub it for you?” Aegor turned and replied, “How hard can it be to rub your own belly? Why can’t you do it?”

“I can rub it,” Arya said miserably. “But I get sleepy while rubbing, and when I stop just as I’m about to fall asleep, the pain wakes me up. It’s unbearable.”

“Oh, you’re so troublesome!” Aegor rolled over and ignored her. “Go back to bed. It’s not proper for a girl to ask a man to rub her belly.”

“Master, please. It hurts so much I want to die…” Arya whispered through tears, trying to pull back his blanket and crawl under it.

“What are you doing now?” Aegor sat up angrily and glared at her, not caring whether she could see him or not. “First you falsely claim I touched your backside, and now you want people to think I slept with you?”

“Master, I was wrong… I swear I’ll never joke like that again.” Arya sobbed. “If it keeps hurting like this, I don’t want to live—”

…

Her voice didn’t sound fake. Could it really hurt that badly? Aegor frowned in doubt. The temperature had already dropped sharply at night since they’d entered the North. He quickly lay back down, pulled the blanket over both of them, and grumbled, “Girl, can’t you show a little backbone? You rolled your eyes at me this morning, and now you’re begging me to rub your belly. What the hell is this?”

“Wah… Master, I promise I won’t dare again. I’ll listen to everything you say from now on!” A girl in her early teens could hardly endure the endless pain on her own. Driven nearly mad by it, Arya would do anything just to make it stop. She squirmed her way into Aegor’s arms, pressed her back against his chest, grabbed his hand and pulled it to her stomach, forcing him to rub it.

Aegor was irritated, but this wasn’t the child’s fault. Since it wasn’t her doing, it would be heartless to vent his anger on her. After some thought, he softened and decided to treat the girl kindly while she was going through her period. A little kindness now would go a long way. It was a good opportunity to improve her trust and favor. He didn’t know what Arya could do for him after they left King’s Landing… but no matter what, she was still Lady Stark.

…

Arya’s body was cold, thin as a stick, and her hands were icy. Whether it was from the cold or the pain, she was trembling slightly. Aegor held her in his arms, not out of lust, but from a natural sympathy and protectiveness. He adjusted his hand and pressed it against her belly. “Here?”

“A little lower.”

“Here?”

“Lower… mm, that’s it!” Arya moaned, her voice shifting from pain to relief as she nestled deeper into Aegor’s arms. His adult body felt massive and warm to her. Like a small animal stuck in a mire, she melted into his strong embrace, surrounded on all sides by warmth and strength. His hand on her lower belly… warmer and steadier than her own, felt almost magical. The pain eased quickly under his touch, making her want to bury herself even deeper into him.

“Much better… mmm… don’t stop.” For the first time, Arya felt comfort without pain. She twisted slightly and squeezed closer. “Master, you said the bleeding is normal. Then what about the stomach pain? Is that normal too?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. It depends on your body.”

“Ugh…” Arya groaned miserably. “Then I must be the unluckiest. I’ve never heard of anyone hurting as much as I do. Will it always be like this?”

“You’ll bleed once a month. Whether it’ll hurt every time, I don’t know. Once you get used to it, or get stronger and stop running around, it might get better.”

“What? Once a month!” Arya sounded horrified and began to cry again. “Then I’d rather die… Is there any way to stop it?”

“There is. Find a man to give you a ‘shot’. If you’re lucky, it won’t come back for ten months.”

“A shot?” Arya didn’t understand. “Master… can you give a shot?”

Aegor’s irritation faded, and he almost laughed. He rubbed her head with his free hand. “Stop fooling around. That’s something your future husband will do.”

Even Arya understood now. She still felt miserable, but her master was clearly in the mood to joke. She snorted in protest but didn’t dare complain. She still needed his help. “I don’t want to get married.”

“Whether you do or don’t is none of my business.” Aegor had long since learned not to meddle in others’ affairs. “Talk to your parents when you get back. Don’t bother me with it, understood?”

“Oh…” At the mention of her parents, Arya suddenly remembered something. “Master, my father is in King’s Landing… he should be all right, right?”

Whether he would be or not depended on the actions of Renly, Stannis, and Robb. The single bunk was cramped for two, and Arya didn’t have the “assets” to make anyone entertain improper thoughts. Aegor adjusted her into the most comfortable side-lying position and held her.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? Stop talking and close your eyes.”

“Mm. Okay.” Arya reluctantly shut her mouth, enjoying the human furnace and massage machine that held her, and closed her eyes.

(To be continued.)

***

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep