Chương 78: ' Fifteen Blades & Five Words '
POV: Wylla Snow;
White Harbor.
The day after Lord Stark accepted the first request...
The former commoner of the Westlands had just delivered the message, which had arrived at the aviary of New Castle by an eagle, to her mistress Lady Barbrey Dustin.
"From Lord Duncan, my Lady," Wylla said, stepping back to give the lady proper privacy.
"Thank you, Wylla. Please stay... I'm afraid I will need you soon." Replied Barbrey in a slightly annoyed tone.
"Yes, my lady." Wylla.
It was now three days since Wylla, Lady Barbrey, and all of Barbrey's retinue had been guests at New Castle. Wylla still did not know for what purpose they had come there.
Lady Barbrey read the message from cover to cover. Then she said in a sour tone:
"And so, Lord Stark has agreed... Part of me still hoped he'd object. Damned Starks...
Wylla", she called to Lady Barbrey.
"Yes, my Lady?" Wylla.
"Has everyone arrived?" Lady Dustin asked.
"Yes, my Lady. Lord Howland Reed arrived at the gates of New Castle two hours ago. Lord Wyman informs us that the ships are ready to sail at any time. The voyage to Maidenpool should take no more than six days according to the captain." Promptly informed Wylla.
"Good. We shall have to leave at once.
Inform my father and the other lords to prepare to leave.
Send a raven to Seagard. Jorah and the other Northern Lords should have arrived by now.
And Wylla--" Barbrey.
"Yes, my Lady?" Wylla.
"Make sure that damned sword is present among my personal effects..."
End POV.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
POV: Squire Jerha Ged.
On Lord Wyman's flagship, less than two miles from White Harbor.
About six hours after Wylla had a raven sent to Seagard...
The ship had sailed less than half an hour before. Ten minutes earlier the 'Trident of the Seas', Lord Wyman's flagship galley, one of the strongest and fastest ships in the North, had passed through the harbor gates.
All three mainsails had just been unfurled and the ship was gaining more and more speed. In less than seven days, that ship would reach Maidenpool.
Jerha, Lord Wyman Manderly's squire, was standing on the port side so as not to get in the way of the crew at work.
The forty best sailors from White Harbor, together with the Lord's personal escort of over sixty knights and as many squires, made up the crew of the 'Trident of the Seas'.
It was not only the largest ship in the North but also one of the fastest. The galley could easily have carried twice the crew. Three other galleys and two caravels sailed a few hundred feet away. Three for escort and two for transport. The danger of pirate attacks was minimal.
The squire admired the beautiful view in silence, finally enjoying a moment of well-deserved peace.
'It has been six years since I was appointed squire... When will the day come for me to prove myself?
I have been training in the fighting arts since I was five years old.
I will never become a knight by continuing to clean Lord Wyman's dirty laundry... ' Thought the seventeen-year-old aspirant of glory and honors sadly.
"JERHA!... JERHA! WHERE ARE YOU BOY?!" The stillness shattered.
"Yes, my Lord! I'm coming!" Jerha began to run towards his Lord's voice.
A few seconds later...
"Here I am, my lord. How may I be of service to you?" Jerha.
"How can you be of service to me?! You can start by telling me where my sword is!
Where did you put it, boy?!" Lord Wyman.
Jerha was momentarily disarmed by the question. Lord Wyman already had his sword with him. It was the first thing the young squire had prepared. He would never make such a mistake.
"... Emm... my Lord. Your sword is there.
You carry it with you, Lord Wyman." Jerha.
"... Do you think I am an idiot, Jerha? Or maybe you think I'm blind? Choose, boy. Idiot or blind?!...
I KNOW MY OLD SWORD IS WITH ME!!!
I MEAN THE OTHER SWORD JERHA!!! THE OTHER!!!
THE ONE LADY BARBREY BROUGHT ME AS A GIFT THREE DAYS AGO!!!" Shouted Lord Wyman, disheveling the seventeen-year-old in front of him.
The wooden boards at Jerha's feet were about to open, and a deep, dark chasm was about to swallow him...
Jerha did not think Lord Wyman would want to take that sword with him as well.
He had hung that exquisite Valyrian steel-like work in the ceremonial hall of New Castle that very morning...
"... My... m-my Lord... I... I fear... " Jerha.
"Yes, Jerha? Do you fear? What do you fear, boy?" Lord Wyman.
Jerha took courage.
"... I fear I did not understand that you wished to take 'That Sword' with you as well, Lord Wyman.
The sword remained in New Castle, my Lord..." The boy braced himself for yet another incoming shriek...
The shriek did not come.
The squire opened his eyes slightly.
Lord Wyman was peering at him with a murderous look, but he was calm.
"Go retrieve that sword, Jerha.
Lucky for you, you'll still make it in time... " Lord Wyman.
"Of course, my lord! I will take a lifeboat and ask Captain Worren of the ''Golden Foam'' to come back for... " Jerha was interrupted.
"No... you will not ask Captain Worren anything...
All ships will proceed. You will row back to White Harbor. From there you will ride day and night to Harrenhal. In nine days you should make it, my dear "I-Would-Be-Knight".
Be careful on the Frey lands. That stretch of road is full of bandits. Eyes open, boy."
End POV.
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POV: Garoan;
Lord Jon Umber's tent, Northern army camp.
Some six days after a squire set out on horseback from White Harbor carrying a sword ...
The young vice-captain Garoan, Greatjon Umber's most trusted assistant and guard, was on guard that night.
Half an hour earlier, an emissary from House Tallhart had arrived, bringing a request for a personal reception for Lord Duncan.
Bloody Snow wanted to speak with Greatjon in private. His lord willingly agreed. It was not yet midnight, Greatjon slept at most four or five hours if he had not drunk himself into unconsciousness the night before. The night was still young for the Lord of the Last Hearth.
Garoan was looking forward to meeting the northern legend in person. Unfortunately, during his previous brief visit more than four years ago, Garoan was not part of that legendary banquet. The banquet where he might as well have lost his virginity to one of the most beautiful women in Westeros and Essos...
Despite waking up in his bed the next day with a gold coin in his hand, Garoan cursed himself almost every night for his weakness. He wished he could have been part of it too... He wished he had the strength to celebrate with the entire Last Hearth.
But at least, he would meet Bloody Snow soon.
A few minutes later...
An eleven-year-old boy was standing in front of Garoan.
"Lord Duncan! It is an honor for me to meet you in person. I am Garoan, Lord Umber's assistant and escort. My lord is ready to receive you at any time." Garoan.
"Thank you, Garoan. It is an honor to meet you as well... Emm... Might I ask you Garoan, if by any chance my little request for the weapons has also been granted?" Bloody Snow.
"Yes, my Lord! As per your request, any blades or blunt objects have been removed from Lord Umber's quarters." Garoan replied promptly.
"Phew... Thank you very much, Garoan.
... May I leave my sword with you?" Bloody Snow asked, handing over a beautiful red case adorned with dozens of tiny white pearl bows.
"T-That... Emm... Couff... Coff... Forgive me, my Lord. Is that by any chance the famous Red Rain?" Garoan asked in amazement, almost choking from the excitement of the moment.
Bloody Snow was distracted. He kept staring at the entrance of the tent as if there was a ferocious beast inside.
"Huh?! Ah, yes. Forgive me Garoan, I was distracted for a moment. It is Red Rain. Can I count on you, my friend?" Bloody Snow asked.
"Of course, my lord!!! I will guard it with my life. I swear it!" Garoan.
"... Hope it won't come to that... but thank you.
Erm... Garoan." Bloody Snow.
"Yes, my Lord?" Garoan.
"If you should hear any screams or disturbing noises coming from within... Pay no attention." Bloody Snow.
"... I understand, my lord. I wish you good luck then." Garoan quickly understood the underlying message. Greatjon's uncles, Mors and Hother Umber, often made similar recommendations before going to argue with Greatjon.
It was almost always up to Garoan to clean up the slaughterhouse immediately after the fight.
Bloody Snow nodded with satisfaction and then prepared to enter... but before he could, Garoan stopped him.
"My Lord, a moment!" The guardian.
"Yes, Garoan?" Bloody Snow.
"... Here... I would like to ask you, my Lord, if... I might by chance during the wait admire your sword? Perhaps even taking it out of its scabbard?" Garoan dared to ask.
"Of course, you may." Bloody Snow.
About ten minutes later...
Garoan was too distracted by the sword. He was cleaving slow blows through the air like a fencing lesson.
Perhaps that was the best moment of his life.
He was so focused on the experience that he no longer paid attention to the shouts and screams just a few feet away.
Many Umber soldiers had come out of their tents to find out what was causing the ruckus.
But Garoan couldn't hear screams like:
[ ARE YOU CRAZY, BOY?!! DO YOU THINK I WOULD LET YOU DO SUCH A THING?!!]
Or like...
[THANK THE GODS THAT I'M HERE TO LISTEN TO YOU, AND NOT MY UNCLES! CROWFOOD WOULD RIP OPEN YOUR BELLY TO FEED ON YOUR ENTRAILS!]
Or even...
[NEVER!! THOSE ANIMALS WILL NEVER GET THROUGH!! I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR AlCOOL! YOUR NAME! AND YOUR HOUSE!]
Or...
[WHAT?!... DO YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE ME?!
DO YOU THINK I'M LIKE THAT SISSY FROM THE DRUMM HOUSE?! STEP FORWARD IF YOU DARE, TRAITOR OF YOUR BLOOD!!!]
End POV.
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POV: Duncan;
On a raft less than 300 feet from the shore of an island in the middle of a lake.
About four days after a rough fight ended...
The boatman continued to pass the semi-tensioned rope over the pivotal point of the raft. The man was in his sixties, silent and dutiful. The route cost a gold dragon.
Although exorbitant, the cost included a return trip. The man would wait as long as it took.
The boatman was a faithful believer in the Old Gods. It was said that his own house was blessed by the Old Ones.
One of the few wooden dwellings immune to the horrors of war. No bandit or drunken soldier dared to joke in the hut of old Tom 'the Boatman of the Eye of the Gods'.
"Remember, young lord. Your sword, or anything made of iron and bronze, cannot go more than three feet from the point of docking.
Many have not taken my warning seriously, and none have ever returned." The old man.
"I thank you for the warning. Even though my sword may pass, I will still leave it before that threshold. Everything else is just skin and blade." I said.
"Good. I'll await your return then." Old Tom.
"Thank you, boatman Tom," I replied.
About ten minutes later...
I had already walked more than twenty paces into the interior of the woods.
My head was exploding.
The call of the Old Ones had never been so intrusive and urgent.
It wasn't just the dozens of heart trees less than a hundred feet away from me, but one tree in particular. A very Ancient tree imbued with power...
I had activated my breathing technique to the max. I could still muffle those voices for the most part.
After another dozen paces, the voices suddenly fell silent.
This had never happened before. I became noticeably alarmed at the anomaly.
"Better now?" Said a sweet, childlike female voice.
"Who's there?... Forgive me...
Yes, thank you. Whoever you are." I said politely after correcting myself.
"... I won't tell you my name if you don't tell me yours first.
Who are you, Green Knight? How can you hear the voices of the Old Ones?" The child's voice.
"My name is Duncan. Duncan of House Tallhart.
I am not a Green Knight.
How do you know I hear voices?" I asked intrigued.
"... I am Druantia. My Granfather, told me, Duncan of House Tallhart, . He always knows everything about anyone who steps foot inside his domain." An emerald green child four feet tall suddenly appeared.
She had always been within five feet of me but was invisible to the naked eye. She had pointed ears, dark lips, hair of a dark shade of green, and a fluctuating number of shades other than the usual Level...
' That's a CR... she is considered a creature with a degree of challenge instead of a level. Challenge rating [10].. Yes... she could undoubtedly reduce me to compost, if she wanted to... ' I thought with astonishment. I wasn't scared. That female being didn't emit any hostile intention towards me.
"Druantia, may I ask how you managed to silence the voices? Magic of silence by any chance?" I asked with extreme curiosity.
"No, no magic at all. I simply asked the trees if they could stop talking for a while." Druantia answered as if it was the most basic thing in the world.
I had never actually tried that... I felt like an idiot just thinking about it.
"How long have you been following me, Druantia, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked.
"Since your fourth step... My Grandfather knew you were coming. He asked me to be your guide.
Follow me Duncan of House Tallhart. He is waiting for you." Druantia.
"I thank you for your guidance, Druantia. Please, lead the way. And if possible, stay within ten feet from me... Everything is green here and your footsteps don't make a sound." I prayed, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the only visible portion of the green hue.
"... Mmm... All right. But you'll have to move faster then. I like to run."
Ten stressful minutes later...
I briefly caught my breath. I had arrived in front of granite pillars filled with black runes. The inside of the stone carvings was made of dragon glass.
A heart tree at least five times the size of Torrhen's Square was less than three feet from the altar.
A face with a circumference of at least six feet stood at the base of it. The face seemed to hold a serious expression.
"Welcome, heir of Joramun." A sweet, ancient, overwhelming voice, overflowing with a power hit me full force.
'He knows!... Could he know everything about me?' I thought with alarm. I recovered a moment later.
''Thank you for receiving me... King of the Sons of the Forest. It is an honor... "I was interrupted.
"I am no king, young First Man. I'm just a druid.
You may call me 'Druid' if it pleases you. Or even Guardian of Beauty if you're more comfortable with formality.
It was kind of you to leave your Dragon Steel weapon outside my lands.
Which form do you prefer?" The voice asked.
"I beg your pardon?" I didn't understand what he meant.
"You humans are always afraid of my true form. I can change my appearance and get semblances that are easier for you to accept. So what form?" The voice.
"Emm... Any humanoid form will do for me. I have no preference, Guardian of Beauty ." I replied in a polite tone. Every sense of danger in my body was screaming at me [Monster Alert] at every moment with the whistle of an air raid alarm.
A slender old man less than five feet tall, long gray hair, with extremely wrinkled skin, as if made of tree bark, covered in a robe made entirely of twigs and leaves. A stirrup made of pure heart-tree wood supported him. The stirrup was undoubtedly magical.
A leaf floated in the middle of the top of the staff and was surrounded by a green aura that gave off pure energy...
I couldn't stop me from my involuntary exit:
"Challenge Rating [22]?!! Coff!...Emm... I beg your pardon."
"... What is a 'Challenge Rating', young man?" Asked the monster with a higher challenge rank than a common Lich of Forgotten Realms.
"Nothing important, Lord Druid. I beg your pardon... Please forget my previous words, if you can." Me.
"As you wish, ... So, blessed by the Ancients.
What are the three requests you wish to make of me?" The Druid went straight to the point.
"May I ask how you know there were three?" I asked curiously.
"My eyesight is almost as good as that of the Guardian of Love, Duncan of House Tallhart. You who are his disciple should understand what I am talking about. I only have to feel the weight of your footsteps on the grass to know that you carry three burdens in your mind." Another bucket of icy water hit me.
"Of course... I understand. Yes, Guardian. If possible, I have three favors to ask you." Me.
"Three favors, require a pledge of as many three from you, young man. Are you aware of this?" The Druid asked politely.
"If it is within my power to return the favor, I will do so. I swear it." Me.
"Good then. Fear not. I will only request what you can give me.
I will listen to your demands first. Then I will tell you the price.
Please..." The Guardian of Beauty.
"First, I would like to get your permission to bring in thirteen iron blades inside your domain. The owners will enter the island within three days." Me.
"... Only the Green Knights can carry weapons other than Dragon Glass and Steel. I'm sorry, but for the sake of this island, I cannot reverse the spell." Replied the Druid in a firm tone.
''I would never dare to ask you to do that, Guardian of Beauty...
This second request is related precisely to the first."
*****
About a minute later...
"Your three requests can be fulfilled." The Druid.
"I thank you, Great Druid.
...How can I repay you?" Me.
"I want you to ask your Master to arrange a meeting with the Magic Guardian's disciple. I know that within three moons he will come to the North. I have much to discuss with the Chief Sorcerer of Carcosa. Within six moons at most of his arrival, the King in Yellow must come here to the Island of Faces to visit me. The Guardian of Love shall also be present to guarantee the meeting...
You too may attend this event, if you wish.
I want the exiled King of the First Men and the King of the Giants to come here within the next 90 moons. The agreements made over 9,000 years ago have expired. New pacts must be made.
Finally... I wish you to grant the Ancients' wishes.
You must go to the great tree and increase your power by nightfall.
Can you do this for me, Duncan of House Tallhart?" The Druid asked.
"... All right. Yes, I can do that." Me.
"Well then... Grab my arm, young man." I did as requested.
He grasped my arm, and to the touch, the skin felt like it was made of hard oak. A warm sensation, like the flow of thermal waters, pervaded my body.
The druid whispered something unintelligible to my ears. It sounded like the rustling of a bush.
A dark green circular rune appeared on the back of my hand.
From it, small lianas of the same color appeared and began to wrap around my arm. The tips penetrated my skin and made their way through my flesh. From my wrist to my shoulder, all the way to my heart.
The most disturbing thing was that I felt no pain, just a slight tingling...
"The pact is tight. Should you miss the deadline, your heart will explode under the pressure of the power of the Great Tree's roots...
You should hurry young man. Within three hours the sun will set..." Said the monster.
"WHAT?! BUT... Couldn't you have told me earlier?" I asked with shock and concern.
"Were you going to break the deal?" The monster.
"No... I didn't mean that. That was not my intention at all. I apologize... But when you meant [ask your master], it means that I just need to ask Zick if he can do it right? Not that he has to do it..." I asked to clarify this little legal quibble.
"No, I meant that the meeting will have to happen. If The King in Yellow and The Watcher don't get here within six moons, your heart will explode, young man.
Is there a problem?" The damned Druid asked quietly and casually.
"No... No problem." Me.
"Then what was the point of telling you, young man?" Druid asked quietly.
" It doesn't matter...
Out of curiosity. Why do you want me to increase my powers?" I asked.
"Because my Granddaughter, Druantia, wishes to increase hers."
Fine POV.
----------------------------------------
POV: Eddard of House Stark.
Isle of Faces.
Some three days after a pact was made...
The Lord of Winterfell had just stepped off old Tom's raft. He and his vassal, young Duncan Tallhart, had had to pay a golden dragon each for that stretch alone.
Not that he was complaining. As a young man, he had always wanted to visit the island where the pact was made thousands of years ago between the First Men, the Giants, and the Children of the Forest.
A true believer in the Old Gods, he should have visited that place at least once in his life.
"This way, Lord Stark. You left every iron or bronze object in the raft, didn't you?" Ned rechecked every inch of his body for the fourth time.
Old Tom had alarmed him greatly.
When Ned asked the boatman how many had broken that rule, and how many had returned, he was noticeably impressed when the old man answered with two round figures:
440 & 0...
"Yes, I hope that no arrowhead fragments remained inside my old war wound..." Said Ned with concern. The Maester serving Eagle's Nest had reassured Jon Arryn several times that the wound was fully treated. But now the doubts began to resurface...
"Ah, even if that were the case, my Lord, I'm sure the Keeper wouldn't mind... At least I hope not." The boy whispered the last words, but Ned had heard them anyway.
The man gathered his courage and prepared to take the fourth step... Nothing happened.
****
About twenty minutes later...
"This is the place?" Ned asked as he admired the Big Heart Tree. It was at least twice as big as the one in Winterfell.
He thought it was beautiful.
What Ned would have paid to be able to meditate there in total solitude. Accompanied only by the sounds of the woods and the clanking of his whetstone on his family ancestral sword.
"This is the place, Lord Stark.
I would say the time for the seventh request has come..." Said the boy.
"Go ahead, Lord Duncan. As I told you before, I do not need convincing." Ned.
"Words are wind, Eddard of House Stark..." Duncan.
The man was disturbed by that statement.
Was the boy indirectly accusing him of not being a man of his word? Or did he mean something else?
Ned heard the sound of rustling and presences all around him...
Fourteen figures approached the duo. Ned did not recognize them.
All of them were armed, hidden by night's favor, and hooded.
There were open fires all around him. The only sources of light other than the starry sky that night.
"Who are you?! Introduce yourselves and make your intentions clear!" Warned the Protector of the North in a clear and serious voice.
One of the figures took a few steps forward, approached one of the fourteen lit hearths, and said, uncovering his head:
"Ser Helman Tallhart. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The first.
The rest followed suit.
"Ser Domeric Bolton. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The second.
"Ser Wyman Manderly. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant to the Old Gods and First Men." The third.
"Ser Rickard Karstark. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant to the Old Gods and the First Men." The fourth.
"Ser Jon Umber. A Green Knight. Protector and servant of the Old Gods and the... True First Men!" The fifth.
"Ser Halys Hornwood. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The sixth.
"Ser Medger Cerwyn. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The seventh.
"Ser Galbart Glover. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant to the Old Gods and First Men." The eighth.
"Ser Robin Flint. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant to the Old Gods and First Men." The ninth.
"Ser Rodrick Ryswell. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant to the Old Gods and First Men." The tenth.
"Ser Ruber Magnar. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant to the Old Gods and First Men." The 11th.
"Ser Howland Reed. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The 12th.
"Ser Jorah Mormont. A Green Knight. Protector and servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The 13th.
"... Ser Barbrey Dustin. A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." The penultimate.
"Ser Duncan Tallhart..." Ned turned behind him.
"A Green Knight. Protector and Servant of the Old Gods and First Men." Last one.
Ned noticed that his 'loyal vassal's left hand was resting on the hilt of his sword.
He looked into the boy's eyes to understand his intentions. The face stated nothing that he could understand.
''What is the meaning of this, Lord Duncan?
You said that no iron weapons could enter the island... What are your intentions?" Ned.
"I did say it, Eddard of House Stark... But I left out the part where I was supposed to explain to you, that only Green Knights can carry man-made weapons...
Unfortunately, you are not a Green Knight, Lord of Winterfell and Protector of the North..." The boy said loudly so that all present could hear his words.
The boy continued before the tense man a few paces away could retort.
"All will be explained to you shortly, Lord Eddard...
Please, a moment's patience." Ned remained silent with a serious look taking a step back.
'I am surrounded... I have no way to retreat. ' Thought the soldier inside Ned.
The nearest danger began to walk in a circle around Ned. The ' Green Knight ' continued to speak loudly.
''Six challenges have been presented to you, Eddard of House Stark.
You have faced six points of a star and prevailed against each of them.
You prevailed against {The Blacksmith }... by agreeing to repair and rebuild the shield of the South. The instrument that will protect us, bring wealth, comfort, and prosperity to each of us...
You prevailed against { The Mother }... managing to show mercy, love, protection to those you now consider part of your people...
You have prevailed against { The Crone }... by seeing the right path to follow in this dark and treacherous land...
You prevailed against {The Father }... judging sternly and forcefully what was right to do to keep us all safe.
You have prevailed against { The Maiden }... by empowering all minds in the North to enjoy the infinite possibilities, joys, and pleasures worth fighting for.
And you prevailed against { The Warrior }... by wresting from the Seven their exclusive control over the knighthood. it will be to your credit, Lord Stark, that the Green Knights can once again return to Westeros.
But now your greatest challenge awaits you, Eddard of House Stark.
The test of { The Stranger }, the trail most feared by all. The final test to prove to the greatest lords of the North that you can lead us in this future war against the Andals. That you are worthy to lead the First Men and all the servants of the Old Gods to a better future.
House Stark has failed many of us over the last millennia...
Allowed an enemy to enter our lands, turning us against each other, starving us and leaving us to freeze to death.
Our enemy has never broken his siege...
If here and now you, Eddard of House Stark, you will prove to us all that we still have a leader worth following on the battlefield...
a Leader worth dying for.
Six years ago, you failed this trial...
Today you will be given another chance to succeed where dozens of your predecessors have failed.
Here before fifteen members of a new council, created to fight rival councils...
the first members of the {Green Order}.
Are you ready, Eddard of House Stark?" The boy asked, drawing his sword.
"... Shall I face this test unarmed, 'valiant' Green Knight?" Ned asked with a look that expressed disgust and pure betrayal.
'Even Howland...' Thought Ned with deep disappointment.
"No, 'Lord' Stark, your swords are right here." Said the boy as other figures joined the group.
An older, more powerful figure slashed his arm with a crude black dagger.
Dark green blood dripped and was collected by other smaller figures.
Ned Stark had no idea what was happening...
Fourteen green children ran with a crude, poorly carved wooden basin towards each of the Green Knights.
The ebony-colored figure with huge deer antlers and eyes as black and dark as night drew a rune on the boy's forehead himself. Finally, the leader of those beings walked in a circle, creating a perimeter marked by his blood.
The five words the man heard afterward in his language were incomprehensible to his ears...
End POV.
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POV: A Blind, Deaf and Incredulous Woman.
Island of Faces.
About twenty seconds after the Hand performed the ritual...
Lady Barbrey didn't know what to do.
It was powerful magic... older than her dynasty.
Once the deed was done, there was no escape.
Her nephew Domeric had just finished...
Barbrey could not hear a word he said.
Then it was Lord Wyman's turn... still nothing.
Lady Dustin could not even see the glowing thread of runes gathering in the center of the altar.
It was her father's turn... again nothing.
Lady Barbrey could only stare with hatred and contempt at the standing figure in the center of the altar.
Her beloved Jorah's turn came... there Barbrey felt something.
She looked away from the man for a moment and turned to see the now shorter figure leaning with closed eyes on his Valyrian steel sword.
Then Barbrey heard a childlike voice.
"The sword." Barbrey looked into the eyes of the bloodstained child of the forest.
Before she listened to the creature, the Widow of Barrowton searched the man's eyes again and found them.
Not even she could deny the unmistakable signs of deep sadness and repentance in those eyes...
Lady Barbrey Dustin held the defiant gaze for a few more moments before giving up and drifting into oblivion...
The woman drew her custom-made ceremonial sword of Damascus Steel and bowed, pointing the blade at the ground.
The son of the forest engraved a rune with the blood of Sons of the God, and then said:
"Speak the words, Green Knight."
Barbrey shouted the five words that, six years before, she would never have uttered even under torture.
"The King In The North!!"
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