Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Chapter 39: ' 385...218...507 '

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POV: Duncan;

The ambush site.

Three minutes after the men of House Tallhart, clamoured for the North....

The 100 or so remaining men of the ' Brave Companions ', were completely surrounded on all sides. Their mounts, hit hard by fatigue, panic, confusion, and the smell of blood and death, were doing almost half the work of ramming and kicking dozens of knights from all sides.

Now that I was in the middle of the battle, I could see the levels of my enemies. Most of them were level [5] and about a third were level [4]. This did not take away from the fact that the movements of all of them were clumsy, imprecise and slow. All due to hunger, lack of sleep, drunkenness and general panic.

All the chosen men of House Tallhart were fresh, well-rested, mentally prepared and motivated. Each of the chosen members of the Frost Blades unit, who had successfully infiltrated the enemy lines, were level [7].

Fourteen men with red armbands tied to their arms were striking the enemy from the south. Peter and his 20 horsemen, from the West. Cohollo with the same numbers, from the East.

Me and the remaining 46 infantrymen, from the North.

"DIE LITTLE BASTARD!" A man [5] armed with an axe charged towards me. Through my still active breathing technique, I could see his movements in slow motion of at least 1 to 3. Every second of my enemy's movements corresponded to three of mine.

I had detected at least four possible openings from that blow alone. I decided to play it safe by deflecting the slash with my shield. Then I aimed a lunge at the linguine...

"SDENGSCRHHHIIN!", "SPUZHGH!", "YAARGHIIIIIGH!". The poor new eunuch, moaned in pain with a feminine screech. Then he slumped to the ground, probably passing out from the shock caused by the trauma.

"One." I began the count involuntarily thinking back to a certain Anime, with a protagonist obsessed with Goblins.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Syggha, who had just perpetually disarmed and neutralized a spear-armed enemy who was trying to grab me from behind.

"LOOK AHEAD, IDIOT!" thundered the woman, pointing to two more enemies on foot who were advancing towards me.

The one on my right was armed with a shield and spear. The one on the left had a long sword and dagger.

Before both could reach a melee range, they were hit by a dagger and an arrow.

The arrow hit the right shoulder of the first man, forcing him to drop his weapon to the ground. The throwing knife, the left thigh of the other, who knelt on the ground screaming in pain.

I took the opportunity offered by Will and Josua behind me.

I charged into the middle of the two of them smacking the knee and thigh of the man standing with nothing but the shield in his hand.

"SLAASHH!" , "AAARRGH! YOU LITTLE BAST!!!", "SDUNGN!".

the man bit his tongue, just after I hit his helmet sideways with my shield. Then I reached the other man on my left still distracted.

"SDROFF! URGH! COUGH! SPUZZHH!" A small stream of blood hit my face as soon as I pierced the unfortunate man, finishing him off with a lunge to the back of the head that pierced him through and through.

"Two." I headed towards the still stunned man.

"NO! NO! WAIT...", "SLASH!" A slit in his throat silenced him completely.

"Three."

Three minutes later...

I had just finished piercing the number 'five' to the ground.

I was beginning to feel the fatigue in my body. I could keep my breathing technique active for five more minutes at the most before I passed out on the floor from the physical and mental stress. When I saw him...

A level [7] enemy, probably the leader of the group, Quorik.

He was currently fighting Dywen Stone [8] on foot. He was wounded in multiple places on his body and was at a disadvantage against his fierce opponent. A horizontal cut over his left eye, rendering him currently blinded from that point, underlined his inevitable fate...

I decided to come forward.

Four of my men, acting as my personal shield, stepped aside to let me pass. There were now no more than 40 'Brave Companions' left...

"Oh Oh, look who's come forward!...Well, he's all yours! SDINNGH!" Said Dywen as he withdrew from the fight.

Quorik looked confused and surprised at his opponent's choice. Then looking closer, he realised who the true leader of this militia was. He seized the opportunity.

"YOU!!! I, QUORIK, COMMANDER OF THE 'BRAVE COMPANIONS', CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!!! ME AND YOU! WHOEVER WINS WILL LEAVE THIS PLACE UNHARMED WITH HIS MEN! DO YOU ACCEPT, COWARD?" Roared Quorik as loudly as he could.

Several men, on both sides, stopped from the fight to watch the scene a few steps away. They all began to back away as they stared at the studded leather-clad man clutching a Dothraki Arakh, and the child two feet shorter armed with a shield and short sword ten paces behind him. Even the confusion and shouting began to subside....

"I, DUNCAN OF HOUSE TALLHART, COMMANDER OF THIS MILITIA, ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE. IF YOU LOSE, THE BRAVE COMPANIONS MUST THROW DOWN THEIR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER!" I thundered in reply.

Quorik nodded, pleased with the response. Then he positioned himself on guard.

"YEAAARGGH!!!", "MAKE WAY!!", "COME ON BLOODY SNOW!!", "QUORIK, TEAR HIM APART!".

I charged forward with shield and sword firmly in my hand. The man was visibly panting and I wanted to give him the luxury of catching his breath.

Quorik cleaved a diagonal blow from the bottom up.

I dodged it by moving to the side.

"WHOSSH!!!" The blade cleaved the wind.

Just then, as fate would have it, it started snowing. Snowflakes with a radius of one centimeter began to rain down on everyone's heads. One of the first big snowfalls of autumn.

Although I was still seeing everything in slow motion, I had to admit that Quorik's shot was quick and accurate, and that the man, although tired, wounded and blind in one eye, was a ferocious beast in a trap that should not be underestimated.

I tried to cleave a shot towards his blind side...but Quorik intercepted it.

"SDINGH!", "SDHEIIING!", "SCHRIIIING!", "SDINGH!", "WHOSHH!", "FIUUUSSH!"

A storm of empty slashes and sparks from the contact of the blades and the clashing of steel on steel lasted for at least twenty seconds. When I committed a faux pas.

Quorik had just faked an opening and I almost fell for it...

"SLASH!", "SDDRIG!!!"..fortunately, my leather and steel mesh armour, managed to absorb the cut almost completely.

"YESSSS!!!", "MY LORD!!!". Some men cheered and others screamed with concern.

Quorik, looked frustrated and displeased with what had just happened. He was obviously hoping that this would be a winning blow. The more he fought, the more his frustration grew.

My strategy was working. The same one that gave Seraphinus an advantage against Metatron.

Come on Commander! Aren't you outraged that a child is standing up to you?! What are you doing in front of your men?!" I thought while making a teasing grin towards Quorik.

"DIEEE!!! "Quorik shouted, starting the charge again...and there I saw her...'The Crack' in his defence!

Quorik had forgotten his blind left side and now his side was completely exposed. Too unbalanced and open to be a feint.

I didn't make myself repeat it twice.

"SWOSHHH!!!", "SLAAAASHH!", "SPRUUSHH!"....

From the groin to the armpit. A huge wound appeared in the body of Quorik, commander of the Brave Companions. Red, steaming pieces of intestine protruded from his belly...

"Urghh..." Quorik knelt on the ground, dropping his weapon. He was trying to hold his insides in with both hands to keep them from spilling out. A circular pool of blood began to form beneath him.

Total silence, disturbed by the moans of suffering of dying men and beasts, spread over the hundred or so men and women who had remained to witness the clash.

I approached behind Quorik, throwing my shield to the ground. I raised my blade upwards so that everyone could see clearly... Then, with both hands firmly gripped on the handle, I plunged my sword from top to bottom into the exposed nape of the defeated warrior's neck, putting him out of his misery. Withdrawing my sword, a spray of blood ran through me, staining my hair and face.

The snowflakes falling on my bare head melted as they came into contact with the blood...

"WUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGHHHH!!!!!!!!", "YEEEAAAARGGHH!!!!"... "BLOO-DY-SNOW!" , "BLOO-DY-SNOW!", "BLOO-DY-SNOW!", "BLOO-DY-SNOW!".

End POV.

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POV: Ser Rodrik Cassel.

Winterfell.

Two days after a battle was won...

Jory Cassel, let his uncle into the study without question. He could already tell from a look that his Uncle Rodrik was alarmed and brought urgent news.

"Lord Stark, I apologize for my intrusion." Rodrik said as he stormed into the room.

"Ser Rodrik...Come closer and tell me what urgent news you bring." Eddard Stark.

"My lord, the Tallhart garrison that had asked our permission to cross our lands was attacked by an armed group two days ago at the mouth of the Cragger Trail. A relay just arrived less than half an hour ago." Ser Rodrik.

"WHAT?! That garrison is supposed to be led by Helman's son himself! What has happened?! Is the boy all right?" The 'Quiet Wolf' panicked.

"The heir to House Tallhart is fine, my lord. He should already be on his way back to Torrhen's Square. He is personally leading half of the escort bringing the wounded home." Rodrik.

"Fiuu!....Please Ser Rodrik, if you ever give me similar news regarding House Tallhart in the future, start at this point." Said Ned Stark as he sat back down and tried to regain his composure.

"Yes, my lord. I apologise for worrying you." Said the fifty-year-old knight, bowing.

"No matter, Ser, go ahead." Ned.

"It seems, that the armed group were not mere bandits, my lord. The soldier informed us that the group was made up of 200 mercenaries from a group called the 'Brave Companions'." Rodrik.

"Two hundred men?...But the Tallhart escort must have been about sixty armed soldiers if I remember correctly...What happened? Did the Tallhart militia manage to escape the fight?" Eddard Stark asked in a confused and alarmed tone.

"No, my lord..." Rodrik took a moment to try and find a believable and sincere tone of voice.

"The Tallharts prevailed in the encounter. It seems they suffered losses of less than ten men...and of the two hundred mercenaries only about twenty managed to survive. The others, my lord...all perished." Rodrik.

Eddard knew full well that Ser Rodrik was not lying. He was a man of honour.

Even so, Lord Eddard Stark, had a shocked and incredulous look on his face.

"And that is not all, my lord..." Rodrik.

"What else?" Ned recovered upon hearing that statement.

"It seems that Lord Duncan Tallhart, was leading that militia and accepted a duel against the enemy commander, killing him...

My lord, House Tallhart is asking for our help. They would like us to help them escort the cargo to Dreadfort and take custody of the twenty captured prisoners." Ser Rodrick.

Ned was struck by another shocking piece of news. He was silent for more than thirty seconds. Then he recovered and returned to being the Lord of Winterfell and Protector of the North.

"Ser Rodrik, gather three hundred armed men and head to the aid of House Tallhart as soon as you can."

End POV.

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POV: Qyburn.

Torrhen's Square.

Two weeks after three hundred armed men left Wintefell....

About two weeks after the defeat and capture of the remaining members of the 'Brave Companion'.

Qyburn arrived at the gates of his private 'study', located in the castle dungeon. Over the past year, his Lord and master had seen to it that the space at his disposal was tripled. All the innovative and experimental equipment, as well as all the material and organic ingredients, were at his complete disposal.

The knight of the mind, could safely claim to be the Maester who had access to the rarest and most expensive alchemical and medical ingredients in all of Westeros. If sold back to the citadel, such ingredients, tools and devices could easily have earned House Tallhart tens of thousands of Golden Dragons. And now, by direct order of Lord Helman Tallhart, all this rightfully belonged to him.

Every morning, Qyburn thought back to the choice he had made almost three years ago. And each time, he couldn't help but smile inwardly and congratulate himself.

Two men dressed in black bowed as Qyburn came in front of them. Two 'Frost Blades' at his direct command, who would obey almost his every order and will.

"Thank you Blade 116 and Blade 30." Qyburn said in a polite tone as the two men opened the sealed doors in his place. The Maester entered the semi-darkened room.

Then the doors were closed again.

Qyburn, approached his new and again in patient strength.

"Commander Vargo Hoat. Thank you for volunteering to be the first for this fascinating new surgical treatment." Said Qyburn to a naked, bound and gagged man. Vargo Hoat, new Commander of the 'Brave Companions', was trying with all his might to free himself from the leather straps that held him down.

"My master asked me to take care of you with a rather specific request. Namely, 'experiment with new amputation techniques and surgical removals.'" Said Qyburn as he began to carry out his normal preparation routine.

"Personally, I'm very excited to experiment and test these procedures. They will be of enormous benefit to the entire Kingdom. For this commander, I offer you my sincere thanks. Fear not, my Lord... Your faithful fourteen men will also be granted the same privilege." Qyburn.

"UGH! SGNNNMMON! LEAVMMMDGH! IMM KOLLMM GHUU!!!" Vargo.

"I see you have a desire to converse with me, Commander Vargo...

In that case, let me go first. I have a colleague down in Dreadfort, of whom I have the utmost respect and esteem, who is soon to undertake a very risky assignment...but I have every confidence that he will be able to carry it out."

End POV.

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POV: Roose Bolton;

Dreadfort.

About a week after Vargo Hoat had his first anatomical piece removed....

Roose Bolton was lying in his bed. He couldn't find the strength to speak or move a muscle. If he did, the shivers and pain would increase again.

He thought back over the course of the last few months.

About three months ago he had returned to Dreadfort. For about a week he had been suffering from a slight discomfort in his eyes and itchy skin.

When Adoamros first noticed the condition, he sought a second opinion from Maester Wolkan, who confirmed Adoamros' hypothesis...

Roose Bolton had been struck by a very rare disease, caused by an insect bite. The disease was dangerous and contagious. Even knowing this, Roose Bolton ordered that the rumours not be spread.

Maester Wolkan did not know about the treatment...but fortunately for him, Adoamros did.

Before the treatment began, Roose personally tested the loyalty of his new healer. He took him to the Bolton family dungeon and gave him 'the mark'...

Adoamros passed the test.

For the first few weeks, Adoamros' treatments seemed to work, although the man repeated each time to the Lord that the disease was not yet eradicated and that symptoms could always appear. The most dangerous of all was the chill...

The last week of Roose Bolton's life was an ice inferno. He constantly experienced tremors of all kinds. Neither fire nor furs could relieve him. He felt as if he were constantly swimming in a frozen lake.

And now the disease had damaged his muscles - he could no longer move.

For about three days now, none of his loyal men had shown up. Adoamros and Wolkan had probably spread the word that the disease was contagious. Neither his wife nor his son came to see him.

A creak of a door made Roose Bolton change the direction of his gaze.

"My Lord. Your son Domeric is a true gift from the gods. Never have I met a more caring and kind boy. I really must compliment you on the way you have raised him." Adoamros said, slipping off his protective linen mask.

"You must have many doubts and questions, my lord....

Today I am happy to announce that you will have them." Said Adoamros as he sat down beside the bed.

"Urgh." Roose Bolton, managed to let out a small groan of pain from his mouth.

"Ah! I beg your pardon, my lord. I almost forgot that your skin sensitivity is at its highest. The pain receptors are as active as ever...Even moving the blanket, should cause you much pain." Explained Adoamros in an apologetic tone.

"First of all, I would like to assure you by saying that the fate of House Bolton is well and truly in your hands.

Maester Wolkan and Rigghert, have done me the courtesy of recommending me to the future Lord of Dreadfort.

Rest assured, my lord. We will advise and guide your son in his future duties.

Although...I must admit that we have a fair amount of difficulty in answering some questions, such as: ' Why did we borrow 70,000 g.d. from House Tallhart? And what was it for?'

But fear not, my lord. We will manage to overcome even this 'difficulty'." Adoamros, took a moment to discover his own wound on his left side not yet healed.

"If you are wondering 'How did you manage to withstand the torture?' The answer is: 'All thanks to Maester Qyburn.'

A dental capsule, my lord. Containing a powerful anaesthetic, all you had to do was move it with your tongue and bite down on it. See?" Adoamros showed a gap between his molars.

"Now my Lord it is finally time to join your ancestors....

Lord Helman and the entire Tallhart family, wanted me to convey these exact words to you:

'The 385 families serving House Dustin,

The 218 families serving House Mormont,

The 506 families serving House Tallhart,

And Captain Tom's family,

SEND YOU THEIR REGARDS. '

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