Chapitre 70: Challenge to a Duel!
Amidst the fervour of voices in the hall, Robert appeared to consider Lord Drumm's justification. After a moment, he sighed, seemingly accepting the argument. "Fine, Lord Drumm. If House Greyjoy had not sworn to me, then it may not be a rebellion in the strictest sense. However, you invaded Westeros, and here you stand, defeated. So, Lord Drumm, I propose a different course of action. Kneel now, swear your fealty to me, and acknowledge me as your true King."
The hall hushed again as Robert's unexpected proclamation hung in the air, leaving the Ironborn lords to grapple with a new reality. Lord Drumm, caught off guard, exchanged glances with his fellow lords, their expressions a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
A collective sigh of relief seemed to echo through the hall as the Ironborn lords processed Robert's unexpected leniency. Lord Drumm and his fellow lords, realizing that their heads wouldn't be rolling off or be made to join the Night's Watch, exchanged glances with each other.
After a moment of silent acknowledgement, Lord Drumm stepped forward. "Your Grace," he began, his voice resonating with a tone of submission, "We accept yer terms. We kneel and swear fealty to ye, acknowledging ye as our true King."
The declaration rippled through the hall, capturing the attention of the assembled lords of Westeros. The defeated Ironborn, once defiant rebels, now bowed their heads before the stag, Robert Baratheon, their oaths of allegiance whether true or not will only be known in the future.
Seizing the moment, Robert skillfully asserted his dominance, "This rebellion against the crown ends here. The Ironborn lords stand defeated, and House Greyjoy has proven itself unworthy of ruling these islands."
A hushed tension filled the hall as Robert paced in front of the captive lords, his gaze unwavering. "I need a new lord for the Iron Islands. Someone loyal to King's Landing, possessing the skill, wit, and potential to uplift these lands for the betterment of its people and the realm."
The pause in the air was thick with anticipation before Robert's deep voice resonated once more, "I have decided. Damian Stark, brother to Lord Eddard Stark, shall be the High Lord of the Iron Islands and the ruler of Pyke. May he lead these islands into a new era, loyal to the Iron Throne."
A moment of silence followed, the implications of Robert's proclamation sinking in before it caused a stir amongst the gathered nobles of Westeros, and specifically the Iron Islands lords. Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire through the assembly, each lord processing the unexpected turn of events.
Lord Drumm's voice echoed through the hall, vehemently opposing the idea of Damian Stark becoming their lord. "A green boy, still wet behind his ears! This Stark is no Ironborn, and he's certainly no lord," Drumm declared, his eyes ablaze with contempt. "The Starks are nothing but barbarians, undeserving dogs who know nothing of our ways. They are not fit to rule us Ironmen!"
Lord Farwynd of Sealskin Point and Gorold Goodbrother shared similar sentiments, though they refrained from voicing their objections outright. The tension in the hall heightened, with the Ironborn lords visibly uncomfortable following their recent oath of fealty to the Stag.
Robert's face darkened with fury as he retorted, "You dare insult the Starks and call them barbarians? They are loyal allies and friends. You may not like the decision, but you will not disrespect those who have stood by us. Ser Mandon Moore!"
Ser Mandon Moore, maintaining his stoic demeanor, stepped forward at the king's command. "Aye, Your Grace," he acknowledged.
"Cut off this man's head for his insolence," Robert commanded, his voice cutting through the tension in the hall.
Reacting swiftly, Damian stepped forward, his voice firm, "Hold, Ser Mandon. I'll handle this myself."
The room fell silent as Damian, standing between the enraged Lord Drumm and the poised Kingsguard, confronted the unfolding situation with unwavering resolve. Many onlookers anticipated that Damian might personally carry out the punishment on Lord Dunstan Drumm.
But that didn't happen instead, they heard Damian say, "You have disrespected not only me but also my House and my people. For that, I have the right to kill you right now. But I won't do that."
"Cause you're scared, pissboy!" Lord Drumm sneered, spitting on the floor, his anger evident and commitment solidified.
"This lad here has taken your son and your stronghold, Lord Drumm. I've got them both as hostages," Damian retorted, his voice cool and unwavering, locking eyes with the enraged Ironborn lord.
"His Highness has deemed me worthy to rule the Iron Islands, and I'm grateful for the honor. However, even I can't tolerate disobedient lords beneath me – those who disrespect or undermine. So, I'll propose this: a death duel to test if I'm fit to lead you Ironmen. What say you?"
Damian's challenge hung in the air like a storm brewing, casting an uneasy silence upon the hall. The other four Ironborn lords exchanged uncertain glances, their alliances tested. Damian pressed on, his tone firm, "If you're not willing to kneel and submit now, then face me in combat. All three of you, if you dare. But be warned, if you fall, your house will be dissolved, and your castle granted to someone loyal to me and my king. If, by chance, I meet my end, the Starks won't seek retribution, and King Robert will allow an Ironborn ruler, as you see fit."
Concern etched on his face, Lord Eddard Stark tried to intervene, but Damian signaled for trust.
The unexpected twist left Lord Drumm unsettled, caught off guard by Damian's audacity. He hesitated before accepting the challenge, not without asserting a condition, "I want to use my family sword in the fight."
Damian, undeterred, agreed but added his own stipulation, "Should you lose, Red Rain will be mine then."
A collective gasp swept through the hall at Damian's bold demand. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation, and whispers spread like wildfire, capturing the attention of all present.
"What is your decision?" Damian asked the remaining Ironborn Lords.
"You want to fight each of us?" Lord Farwynd of Lonely Light questioned.
"If you don't accept me as your lord now, that means you are against me. And if you are against me, then why would I let you own any title or territory in my Islands? So decide now, kneel or take up my challenge," Damian provoked once again.
Lord Farwynd of Lonely Light, Lord Botley, and Lord Farwynd of Sealskin Point exchanged glances and accepted to fight Damian one by one. They viewed Damian as an arrogant boy, believing victory had gone to his head.
Damian then turned to Robert, asking for permission to set the duel for tomorrow and let the fate of the Iron Islands rest in the hands of the gods.
Cautious yet respectful of Damian's approach, Robert gave his approval for the duel, scheduled for the following day at noon.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone