Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Helman Tallhart;

King's banquet, the main hall of The Great Keep, Isle of Pyke.

A few hours after the celebrations began...

King Eddard had succeeded. All the most crucial points for the development and security of the North had been successfully achieved!

The Lord of Winterfell had already taken his leave in his chambers, apologizing to the King and nobles. Only Helman knew why.

Only three nobles were not in a celebratory mood in that hall: Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Jorah Mormont, and Lord Tywin Lannister.

Lord Jorah looked disappointed and uncomfortable when the King called a toast in his honour for bravely and valiantly leading the vanguard.

But Helman's attention was primarily captured by the Protector of the West.

That triumphant entrance into the hall, the opulent and imposing robes, confident step and proud gaze. The hall fell silent for the duration of the Lannister procession's entry.

'The true ruler of Westeros.' Helman thought back to the old rumours that circulated when Tywin was still the Hand of the King of Aerys. It was even rumoured that one Knight had even lost his tongue when the last Targaryen King learned of those rumours.

Helman was impressed by the imperial fortitude that the Old Lion constantly exuded.

The man never smiled. He seemed guarded and ready to fight at any moment.

Even when the King loudly announced in front of everyone the legitimization of Joy Hill into Joy Lannister regarding the heroic deeds of the Smiling Lion, Tywin maintained a face that did not seem the least bit surprised. As if that decree was owed to him and not granted by the grace of the King.

The Master of Torrhen's Square increasingly doubted his chances of dealing with this man. He felt intimidated and unworthy of such a burden.

'Undoubtedly Duncan. Yes... I would not even send 'Blade One' to deal with that man in person, let alone myself or Leobald. I will leave the Beast of House Lannister to the Beast of House Tallhart...' So Helman decided submissively within himself. He would have liked to spare his son this burden, but negotiations with House Lannister before the Tournament were crucial.

Helman's gaze turned to Tywin's giant guard dog... Ser Gregor Clegane. Even when seated, the difference in size with the other individuals was monumental. At least seven feet and six inches. Four hundred pounds of bone and muscle, massive shoulders and arms as thick as the trunk of saplings.

The bench where 'the Riding Mountain' sat was among the quietest in the room. The Lannister men at his side seemed wary of addressing him with looks or words, and for a good reason...

Blade [3] had arrived before the banquet and informed him of the atrocities Gregor and his men had carried out a few days ago at Great Wyk.

About a dozen iron men had been sliced in half with a single slash of his broadsword. A hundred helpless villagers were brutally slaughtered by Gregor and his band. If the total surrender of the Isle had not come so quickly and Tywin had not called off his mad dog, other villages would have met the same end.

Ser Qyburn, the Master of Spies of House Tallhart, had already briefed him on the possible but unproven crimes this monster was guilty of. A potential murderer of relatives. His father had 'mysteriously died' in a hunting accident. His sister had been found on a cliff, tortured and abused by ' a band of marauders'. His wife had already died due to an 'accidental fall' from the tower of her manor.

Not to mention the countless cases of missing inhabitants and servants in his lands...

'A rabid dog with the title of 'Ser' to be put down as soon as possible,' Helman thought angrily, disgusted by the idea that even that false Knight could participate in the next Tournament. He wouldn't let that man put a single foot in his domain.

A few minutes after those macabre thoughts, King Robert got up from the great table awkwardly and joined the 'Table of Heroes', in which Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime also participated. The two Royal Guardsmen had been granted leave of absence by the King to take part in the honours of the festivities.

At that moment, Lord Tywin rose from the table to join Helman's side.

"Ser Helman, at last, I have the pleasure of making your acquaintance." So said the Old Lion in a cold voice and an imperceptible nod.

The Square Master of Torrhen did not fail to notice that 'Ser' instead of 'Lord'. Commonly all the nobles of Westeros addressed him as 'Lord'. However, officially it was an undeserved title... After all, he was the 'Master Protector of Torrhen's Square' and not the 'Lord'.

"Lord Tywin, the pleasure is mine." After standing up, Helman politely replied with a warmer tone and a more pronounced bow.

Now that he was closer, Helman squared that figure more carefully.

A tall, slender, broad-shouldered man in his fifties. Dressed in a regal black leather doublet with gold buttons lacquered in red in the shape of a lion's head. Thin but muscular arms, shaved head and thick golden side-whiskers. Pale green eyes flecked with gold, cold, calculating and gushing with ruthless wit.

After a few seconds of pressing assessment with his gaze, Tywin resumed the word.

"I know that House Tallhart has distinguished itself with valour in capturing the port and fortress. However, the credit for such a swift and overwhelming victory seems to belong to you..."

"Exaggeration and chatter, my lord. The assault on the port was mainly composed of the valiant Baratheon's men, and the fortress attack was an accomplishment achieved by the union of us all. But, without the sword of your son and your brave vassals, victory would not have been so crushed.

House Tallhart does not forget the help given to Bear Island.

My brother Leobald is still amazed at the impressive maritime leadership skills displayed by Lord Gerion. Honour and gratitude to you to your noble House, Lord Tywin." It was challenging to understand whether or not the Lion appreciated the response with that mask of unyielding austerity... but the sentence came seconds later:

"House Lannister is, in turn, honoured to have been able to fight alongside its valued ally. Both Gerion and Jaime sang praises and gratitude for House Tallhart and your son...I note with regret that your heir could not take part in the festivities."

Every second of the conversation was charged with tension and utmost concentration on every gesture, word or facial expression. And that was just a taste of the Old Lion's Roar.

Helman felt as if even the most minor mistake could generate horrendous calamity for him and his Household.

The nervousness before a battle or that conversation? Which would he have preferred? The man was undecided between the two.

"Yes, unfortunately, my son needs a few more days of rest.

Our healer was firm on that. I am sure he too would have been honoured to meet you in person, my lord," Helman replied.

"And that perhaps can be remedied. Have you already decided when to return to Torrhen's Square, Ser?" Tywin asked, seizing an opportunity.

"Lord Stark will remain here for another week before resuming the journey to Winterfell, but he has already given his permission for all of us vassals to return to our lands at our own desired time. I was just making arrangements with Lord Jason Mallister to dock in Seagard as soon as Duncan returns in strength, my lord." Helman.

"In that case, allow me to offer you and your heir hospitality at Casterly Rock. House Lannister has not yet had a chance to repay the kind welcome shown by Torrhen's Square to my family four years ago. A Lannister always pays his debts.

I would also like to take this opportunity to visit so we can discuss other possible future collaborations with your Household." The message was well concealed but still present...

Tywin did not specify 'with you Master of Torrhen's Square', but 'Your Household'.

He could have translated that last sentence with a:

[I want to deal with those who are indeed in charge, and I want to meet him in my Lion's Den].

"A most welcome offer, Lord Tywin. It had long been Duncan's wish to admire for himself one of the most majestic and ancient fortresses in the Seven Kingdoms. House Tallhart thanks House Lannister for the invitation and gladly accepts."

End POV.

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POV: Duncan

Camp Tallhart, less than a mile from Lordsport.

About two days after the banquet...

More lactic acid was still flowing through my body than blood. The excruciating twinges in my muscles and joints had diminished significantly but were still present. Six days of absolute rest was not enough for the exhaustion and physical stress accumulated.

[Lesser Restoration] was not much help. Only [Greater Restoration], a fifth circle healing spell, could lower the levels of physical exhaustion.

I had been an unconscious idiot. I had foolishly overestimated myself beyond my means. I thought my will was unassailable and allowed that monstrosity to take over.

Yet Zick had warned me... I didn't listen to him despite numerous warnings.

I could have avoided it. I could have retreated and fought defensively with my other comrades.

I knew my body better than anyone...one more minute in Berserker mode, and I could have died. I had pleaded with Welbeck, the best healer in the Winter Guardians, to belittle my condition to my father.

If Helman had learned of my proper condition, he would have chained me to Torrhen's Square for months.

'Idiot! A pompous stupid idiot who thinks himself a god! You're just a man, dammit! A bag of blood holding on to flesh and bone!!!' I scolded myself with every strong twinge I felt. This was a lesson in humility that I needed to learn the hard way.

In my defence, I was confident that the state of frenzy, which I had experienced many times before, was significantly weaker than I felt.

Whenever I exceeded the 'Gate Closures' time limit, I felt a principle of loss of control within me, but it had never been so fierce and indomitable before. And indeed, no persuasive voice in my head had ever spoken to me.

Quantifying the threat, it was as if the saving throw on the will to maintain control was DC (Difficult Class) 15, and suddenly it had jumped to 22!

It would take at least another week of rest without any excessive effort to fully recover. But, for now, I could only stand, walk, and talk.

Even if I had returned to strength, I wouldn't dare reactivate that technique until I discussed it with my teacher.

Zick - only he could help me.

He guarded a written list with all the names of the visitors who had paid their respects and good wishes during the last hundred hours spent sleeping.

'Holy names... I'll have to thank dozens of knights and lords in person! Well, priority to Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, and those poor devils who followed me to Seatower.'

William entered the tent to announce the arrival of my expected guest.

At that moment, I realized that I would also have to pay my respects to all the Guardians and Frost Blades who surrounded my tent day and night.

I would have preferred to avoid having visitors in that state. It was by far an awful time to receive visits from the servants of the Many-Faced God.

But this was a meeting of utmost importance that I could no longer put off.

"Lord Stannis, General."

"Make him comfortable, William. Thank you." My Vice-Commander let in a large man: tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. Dark blue eyes and thick eyebrows. He has a fringe of thinning but well-groomed black hair and a short beard on his large jaw. Taut face like hardened leather, hollowed cheeks and thin pale lips. There wasn't much resemblance to actor Stephen Dillane...maybe the hair mostly.

Stannis should be the same age as Ned, but surely the man must have had a fierce fight with Mother Time... He looked at least five years older than a typical twenty-six-year senior.

He was certainly not a fighter on par with Robert, but that [Level 7 Knight Class] testified that Stannis had also worked hard at the art of the sword in his youth.

"Lord Stannis, I thank you for agreeing to this meeting. Please, my lord, have a seat." The Prince of Dragonstone didn't have to ask twice and sat down with hasty celerity in the chair opposite.

"Lord Duncan, glad to see you back in force. I don't mean to sound rude, but I have a fleet to lead to King's Landing. So I hope we can discuss this as soon as possible." It hadn't been a warm greeting, but I had anticipated it. Stannis didn't like celebrations and especially not ones where his brother the King took part. But, on the other hand, one could not accuse Stannis Baratheon of excessive compassion and empathy...

"Absolutely, my lord. I will try to get to the heart of the matter as soon as possible. At least allow me to thank you for postponing your departure because of my injuries." I replied, bowing my head.

"It was not your fault. I would have liked to set sail at dawn after the banquet is true, but the King insisted on my presence during Balon Greyjoy's judgment. You can barely take charge of a few hours, Lord Duncan."

'Intransigent and truthful to the core.' I thought instinctively, discarding even the idea of offering him something to drink.

"So... the King's final verdict?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't glare at me.

"Balon, Euron, and Meron Greyjoy will join the Night's Watch. Theon will be taken in as Lord Stark's protégé, and Yara Greyjoy will go to her Uncle Rodrik in Ten Towers until Lord Alan Fury's first son reaches marriageable age." Stannis replied quickly.

'So much for the summary. The fate of a House with hundreds of years of history behind it summed up in just four lines!' I scuttled off with whatever unhealthy quip or joke came to mind. The final challenge between Zick and me after Josua and Syggha was not 'Ramas' but 'Stannis Baratheon!'

Whoever managed to wrench the slightest tilt in those iron facial muscles would be crowned 'Master of Laughter'!

"Cough... emm... So, my lord, as you well know..." I was anticipated.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, I recall. He and I have already agreed upon a possible relinquishment of my service in exchange for his lands. Davos has placed himself favourably and willingly to the arrangement. But it will all depend on House Tallhart's offer. So make your offer, my lord." Stannis said, gritting his teeth slightly. He didn't look too happy at the idea of breaking away from his skilled smuggler.

"Ten thousand golden dragons, well counted and delivered before your departure," I replied without wasting more time.

Stannis raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise. The offer seemed to intrigue him at the very least.

"A substantial sum, I won't deny that. But perhaps it is not the gold I am most interested in." Stannis.

"What might pique your interest then, my lord?" I asked politely but with my guard firmly up.

"Davos told me of state-of-the-art nautical instruments that we can turn a ship at any time or place." Stannis.

"I am regretful, my lord. Unfortunately, we have already initialled and signed an exclusive sales agreement with House Lannister for the 'Nautical Compasses'. Therefore, we cannot sell or donate such items to the Houses south of Moat Cailin or Essos. Might there be something else of interest to you?"

"You want my best sailor in charge of the Dragonstone trades. That island is barren and inclement. We live by trade and sea routes.

What else do you offer if you cannot compensate for such a loss with those Compasses?" The uncompromising Stannis asked.

"What we are free to offer, my lord. If it is a trade you seek, trade you shall have. Soap and fertilizer at the exclusive sale price reserved for Northern lords only." I proposed.

"House Tyrell also owns 'exclusivity' on the soap lots, my lord." Stannis.

'Touché.' The Burbling Prince was not so clueless.

"The liquors you produce... Tailis, Whiskey and Gin. Add those products on the same terms, and the Onion Knight will be yours." Stannis.

"All right for the Tailis and Gin, but for the Whisky, it is with House Umber that you will have to deal, my lord... but, I will counter with this offer. The costs and risks of shipping will be on us." The stoking seemed practical.

"... Deal. You may have Ser Davos, and you will hear from my chief attendant soon. If there is nothing else..." I stopped the man before he marched out of my tent.

"One moment, my lord, please. I would be interested in acquiring a product in your possession... if possible." Thank the gods he was able to scratch that armour.

"What product do you speak of, Lord Duncan?"

About two minutes of swift, summarizing explanation later...

"Let me get this straight... House Tallhart is willing to pay fifteen silver stags for every pound of dragon glass at Dragonstone? And you will be responsible for the mining and transportation?" the Lord of Dragonstone asked with cautious wariness.

"Yes, that is correct, my lord. We will also offer ten thousand golden dragons in advance payment for the first sixty-four tons of raw obsidian. But in return, we would like you to grant us exclusivity of extraction and sale for the next ten years. I promise I'll have a contract drawn up with all the agreed specifications within the hour. And, of course, you'll also get the gold." I explained as eloquently as I could.

Stannis squared me from top to bottom, gritting his teeth as he pondered.

"Why such favourable terms, my lord? You are offering me a mining price three times the marble of Strong Song. Part of me is screaming that I'm about to tighten a noose around my neck."

'And that part has a point, Lord Stannis.' I meditated, hiding that thought with the best Pokerface in my arsenal.

Not even 'fifteen golden dragons' (1 golden dragon = 210 silver stags) per pound would have done the deal justice. Even the unflappable and steely Stannis Baratheon would have fainted like a maiden in her first period if he had any idea of the incalculable treasure in that mountain.

"For us believers in the Old Gods, dragon glass is valuable, Lord Stannis. Many historical accounts state that the forest children wielded weapons made of obsidian. Many clans of wildlings and inhabitants of Skagos still say that dragon glass was used to fight the legendary Others. We also want to use dragon glass to embellish new temples dedicated to the Old Gods with obsidian altars and sculptures. In addition, we would like to create... 'works of craftsmanship' to bestow gifts on the First Men who are still wary of the Northern regime.

With the dragon glass, perhaps we can get closer in negotiations with the rebel clans of Skagos and perhaps forge more peaceful relations with the Free Folk." I caught my breath, refusing to add more.

'Well, you can't say I lied to you, my Lord... Omitted some qualities and magical properties at best.' So I thought, not feeling entirely guilty. However, even if the current Lord had given his approval for the extraction, I would have to get permission from the 'True Prince of Dragonstone'.

Stannis remained silent for more than a minute, struggling to find some flaw in the explanation that might grant him the means to bargain more.

I maintained the most credible expression of 'innocent young noble scion and novice in negotiations' I could muster.

Hectoliters of saliva waited impatiently in my mouth to be swallowed.

"All right... House Tallhart will have the dragon glass."

End Chapter.

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