Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Duncan

Great reception hall of the Never Winter Bank.

A few hours after the tournament final...

-------

As promised, hundreds of pigeons stuffed with walnuts and spicy plums, braised in spiced wine and accompanied by potato sticks, fried in oil (potato chips, a 'my' 'innovative' idea) were served. The three winning finalists were entitled to the downed prey of their own.

The Hall was packed with tables, guests and courtesans. Thousands of people. The most distinguished tables in the Great Hall were for the most distinguished guests, the two hundred and fifty-six participants and their respective escorts.

Dornian guests and members of the Confederation preferred to be placed at sides away from the members of The Reach. So that bumping or 'accidental' shoving by 'unwelcome' guests would not initiate unpleasant incidents...

Currently, I sat at The Watcher's table on the confederation side. Chai Duq was less than a hundred feet from His Watcher/Badger, engrossed in grunting curses and insults toward any enemy of the Confederacy.

"To Brother Ulmer of Kingswood!!! Cheers!" King Robert called for a sixth or seventh toast; by now, I had lost count.

"To Ulmeeeer!!!" Yeaaarh!", "To the Champion!!!" A long table of about ninety men in black, arranged at the first row of honour in the Hall, answered the roll call first.

Ulmer raised his glittering, majestic dragon bone award upward for the third time, resulting in yet another explosion of applause and jubilation.

Next, the old archer rammed his cheek and hands between the gigantic breasts and soft hips of a good-looking commoner sitting on his lap.

Many 'willing' maidens and courtesans sought the attention of the heroic fraternity members in black. Kisses, caresses and somewhat too lascivious rubbing generated murmurs of dissent and looks of scandal among the high nobility.

However, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the King of the Seven Kingdoms continued to pretend otherwise.

Mistakenly, it was believed that the noble order of the Brotherhood in Black had taken a vow of eternal chastity instead of 'celibacy.' There was a difference between being a husband and father to a eunuch.

This was one of the main changes that the order of the Night Watch had to implement. Those one hundred thousand gold dragons were also needed to restore and renovate Mole's Town. Mainly, it's brothels.

There were hundreds of Hedge Knights in the Seven Kingdoms who wandered between realms, trudging between tournaments or minor engagements, in search of the coinage needed to fill their stomachs, delight in a few cups of spiced wine, warm themselves in a hearth surrounded by solid stone, and occasionally indulge in the experienced and fragrant hands of a woman of easy virtue.

If rumours of an honourable order rich in good food, clothing, wine and women and in search of good men at arms had reached the ears of those swords, the Brotherhood in Black might have been resurrected.

The lack of numbers was not the order's main problem, but the quality of its members. The perception of that role toward the eyes of the continent.

It was better to have ten well-trained, armed and fed men of proven loyalty, deserving and ready to die for their oath, than a hundred bandits, disorganized, cold, yearning for a hot meal and looking for the first opportunity to bolt from their ice prison...

Certainly willing, if lacking, arms and minds could not be refused...Tyrion was in the right.

{The World will always need a home for bastards and broken men}.

One could not simply close the door to unwanted volunteers. The solution to this problem came from my most trusted advisor, Qyburn.

A system similar to the citadel policy had to be replicated: harnessing the labour of the undeserving or scarcely useful, putting them in the employ of the Brotherhood, training cadets with more selection and time, but continually granting opportunities to anyone.

The order of masters bought hundreds of thousands of hours of 'apprentice masters' labour daily, offering nothing more than a room, board and a few sporadic lessons. But the citadel continued to exploit the labour of hopeless rejects for years before convincing them to give up.

As a result, only one in ten apprentices -of noble origins- became a maester... On the other hand, only one in a hundred commoners without a political or economic background made it.

Two or three thousand valid sworn members of the Brotherhood and tens of thousands of probationary volunteers, always ready to reinforce the ranks of the order in case of extreme need, was the best strategy.

In this way, becoming a member of the Night's Watch would no longer be seen as a Punishment but a Privilege... Men would have to plead membership in the Brotherhood and earn that privilege with merit, time and sweat.

With a dash of 'selective cleansing' and the right manoeuvres, soon pronouncing those vows would become a more coveted achievement than Knighthood.

My mind was travelling with fantasies, musings and possible viable future plans as I enjoyed my delicious portion of pigeon when I felt a sudden *Spack!*

A mighty pat on my back made my pigeon go sideways. Somehow, the handful impacted when I swallowed the morsel, occluding my windpipe...

"And I say instead that our Duncan, here, Ser Tristan swallows it with a mouthful and spits it out! Tomorrow, you shall see, Narbo! Tell him, Duncan--hey, what's the matter with you, boy!" Baragh asked, turning to me.

"Cough! Cough! Coff!" I replied, spitting out fibres of spicy white meat as I gave signs of gasping for air to the rest of the table.

"Come on!", *Spack! Spack! Spack!* "Pull yourself together, boy! Ahah!" Three more devastating pats landed on my back.

"So you kill him, you Norvosian idiot!" Galladon Sand rumbled, rising to come to my rescue, along with Master Dywen and Narbo. Zick raised his hand, stopping the rescue, and soon after, the master pressed two fingers on my solar plexus and rested his left hand on my back. A feeling of energetic warmth flowed through me, relaxing every contracted muscle.

The occlusion melted away, giving me much-needed and precious fresh air.

" Phew... Purgh! Coff...! T-thank you, master..." I cast a grateful glance at Zick and a murderous one at Baragh. The Legend of the North came close to ending up like Joffrey... I had no intention of dying a virgin a second time.

"... Yes, right. Ser Tristan will be chewed up and spit out just like with that bird." Narbo snapped out of it, setting off a bark of laughter. Even the impassive Syggha grunted a glimmer of laughter.

"Ahahaha! That was a good one, Narbo! Ahahahah!" Zick laughed loudest, losing every bit of decorum as a respectable Guardian.

"Look, I have no intention of crossing swords with any of the Twelve Arcane Shields! Besides, the guard of The King in The Yellow will not participate in the tournament...!"

"..." Many fell silent; some stared at the elderly individual to my left.

"... The Twelve Arcane Shields will not participate in the Grand Melee or Joust, right master?" Last month, Zick assured me that no elite members of Oldtown and Carcosa would be in contention.

"Emm... Well, my boy, as you well know, four members of the order have remained in Winterfell to protect the treasures of the Confederation, two Magic Knights are still stationed in White Harbor to watch over the fleet, and all the remaining members have to safeguard, day and night, the Lord of Carcosa..." The Watcher tergiver sipped his spiced mead.

"Yes, 'Master'... And all those remaining six also have to obey any order of Chai Duq... So?" I asked impatiently. Already the last-minute addition of Ser Barristan Selmy to the Scrum's ranks had significantly shaken my predictions.

"Coff, Coff... Yes... there may be the possibility that one, two or perhaps three arcane brethren, in their limited free time, may 'dabble' in some playful knightly entertainment... But fear not my boy, the situation is 'Totally' under control." Baragh, Dywen, Narbo, Cohollo and Recallio could hold back no longer, bursting out laughing, while I remained petrified with dismay.

In a short time, yet another round of betting was set up...

***

About twenty minutes later...

The musicians increased the volume and changed musical styles. Finally, Lord and Lady Mormont opened the dancing, and dozens of nobles began to join the entertainment.

Dywen, Recallio and Galladon had already found a worthy partner to participate in the entertainment. I chose to stay a while longer with Zick to discuss 'urgent' matters from the east.

For most of the evening, my attention had been directed not to Braavosians, Magicians or Andals but to guests with very different tastes and habits... Even the Harpy was beginning to set her sights westward.

Although it has not yet provoked any Good, Wise or Great master, in Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen, New Ghis, Tolos, Elyria, Mantarys and Volantis, blades and coins were being secretly sharpened and accumulated.

The slavers did not like the change, but more importantly, the Council of the Harpy did not like that the disruptive new market tides depended on a faraway place where their way of life and culture were despised.

Before venturing into the crux of the topic, I opened our private conversation by asking:

"What technique did you use first, master? What was that energy? I am invigorated, to say the least. I still feel the benefits of it in my respiratory system." Zick did not seem eager to answer.

"... Just a parlour trick learned in the Far East. Nothing to distract your training path for now." I pout with a wounded puppy expression, trying to wring out more glimmers of information... but Zick's face was firm and closed.

"... It's a dangerous technique, isn't it?" I tried to ask.

"It is... Don't ask for more, my disciple. Just know that when you reach the stage of the Sixteenth Gate, we will delve into the subject in detail. That's a promise." This meant energy was closely related to the learning stage of the last five gates!

I had no way to delve further. If The Watcher didn't want to do or say something, no earthly entity could force him to change his mind.

Mouth and stomach were loose enough to move from the appetizer to the main course.

"... Do you know about Astapor and New Ghis?" I asked. The alarming report had come early in the morning.

"The Good Masters of Astapor are offering up to five gold honours for every healthy six- to nine-year-old child... Over five thousand new 'recruits' have been gathered in the last moon. And the Exalted Masters of New Ghis are doubling the units in training of the Iron Legions, while Volantis is acquiring lumber and carpenters from all over to augment its fleet.

Zoldhak estimates that at least ten thousand unsullied have already been commissioned from various black market buyers, and at a sum far above Astapor's onerous standard price... Yes, I know something about that." When the 'slavery' button was touched, Zick's jovial, carefree expression changed, becoming the cold, austere, and firm face of a Being devoted to his duty as a Guardian. The Guardian who had sworn to watch over the Love of this world.

"Could you take away a rather personal curiosity, Master?" I asked, seizing an opportunity.

"If I may, of course, my boy. Ask away." Zick replied.

"Before you bound yourself to the role of Guardian, you possessed means, men and freedom of manoeuvre to counter the Harpy... The Nine Demons were at the height of their power, and if you had really wanted to, you could have assembled an army of freedmen more fearsome than the Iron Legions of Old Ghis. You might not have succeeded in suppressing the Harpy altogether, but at least the Bay of Slavers would have fallen... As much as you try to hide it in your remarkably neutral facade, part of me senses your desire for conflict and opposition to slavery... So why not act when you could?" Frowns of sadness and sorrow mingled in the master's calm, harmonious smile.

"But I, Zoldhak, Baragh and our nine comrades acted, my boy -- or at least, we tried to act. We fought strenuously for over a decade against the Harpy -- until we were defeated." In the first place, I thought I had misheard. I couldn't believe, indeed, 'didn't want' to believe a single word spoken.

"What?! How? Who? When did it happen? What enemy was able to defeat The Watcher and the Nine Demons? You are not by any chance referring to the Shrouded Lord? Did the Harpy and the Titan form a coalition against you?" I asked impatiently. I knew of the various problematic skirmishes fought against the Shrouded Lord, the Titan's ally and current most fearsome weapon. But no major defeat of the Fourth Organization had ever reached my ears.

"The Shrouded Lord...? Ah, no, I am not referring to him. The Prince of Sorrows would never lift a finger for a slaver. That individual is and will remain quite a headache, that's for sure. Quite fierce and 'pushy' if ill-provoked. However, a few well-placed jokes are enough to tame him. Ahah!" Zick strutted with pride, sporting his Grand Master of Laughter air...

Then the Watcher clarified the matter further.

"I think Baragh has already told you the early events of our adventure group..."

I nodded, and Zick continued, "What we needed most, initially, was funds. The means required to finance our crazy and unattainable dreams.

Before your master was banned for life from every box office in Essos, my group and I managed to wrest mountains of gold from the filthy hands of every Great Slaveholder within our reach. From Tyrosh to Qarth, our group hovered like a swarm of gold-hungry and relentless locusts, bringing misery, pain, and a tragic end to every lanista, moneylender, gambler, or noble spectator of habit who delighted in seeing slaves die in some pit or arena.

As you know, we entrusted most of those accumulated fortunes to my adopted mother, Zishua.

Zoldhak was and still is a competent businessman, but I knew that woman like the back of my hand, and I knew her untapped potential of The Spider Queen...

Noble, generous, good-hearted, and gifted in recognizing talents as she was, my former master, Nobaru, her late husband, was almost as bad at business as I was. It was Zishua who skillfully administered the dying Zhao Urat household in the shadows, raising it, in just a few years, from the common slums to the heights of the Great Pyramid of Meereen... But I digress. What matters is that in a short time, we sent dozens of ancient Ghis lineages to the brink, forcing powerful and vile slavers to experience firsthand the pain and coercion of their evil.

However, our first plan was almost entirely futile...

Not even time to pull out a weed that immediately several seeds of the exact nature took root on the fertile soil left empty. Then, we decided to adopt a different strategy, concentrating on the slaves... Many ancient eyes were already on our trail, and the organization was still in its infancy; we could not simply start a revolution without turning the significant chessboard upside down... We chose to replicate the original idea of Braavos, founding a secret city away from the eyes of the world.

A city of freedmen that would welcome any runaway slave or supporter of the 'cause' with open arms, and which, in the future, would become the world's cyclone that would oppose slavery by any means...

But we were only a few dozen and little known. We lacked the raw material, that was, the inhabitants of this new world. Can you imagine how we approached this problem...?" I reasoned about it for a few seconds.

"... Without leaving suspicious traces, nor resorting to violence. You regularly purchased them!" I replied.

"Precisely... I asked for help from a good friend, who is very skilled in the art of disguise and full of contacts in the black market, and we simply passed ourselves off as High Slave Merchants. Ten thousand slaves were the threshold limit that could be acquired in a short time. Ten thousand souls to whom we offered unconditional freedom, sufficient means to make their choices and the possibility of a new beginning. It was then that the Harpy flaunted her true power...

Always remember, Duncan. Armies, Cities, and Empires fall and rise all the time, but an Ideal is a much more resilient and tenacious weed to pull down.

Before long, more than half of those same freedmen chose to take their freedom and acquired fortunes to new, kinder, more comfortable cages... They sold out everything for paltry extra privileges, entrusting their preservation and free reign to a new Master ." The revelation awakened my astonishment.

"Don't judge them too harshly, my boy. An animal that lives in a cage most of its life and knows nothing but servility and obedience, topped with a hearty dose of 'false protection,' doesn't know what to care about dangerous, harsh and unknown freedom... It took months to convince almost a tenth of them that they were really free beings and that no whip would punish them for it anymore.

What shocked me the most were the hundreds who invested their fortunes to become Masters of someone themselves... Many abandoned the now ghost town, and the few who remained had neither the will nor the desire to fight an enemy older than the Valyrian Empire itself. Among those ten thousand souls, only one hundred eighty-three became utterly free from the shackles of the Harpy...

It was a significant setback that made us falter. Our greatest defeat.

The following events robbed us of the freedom to act a few years later. We surrendered that dream to compromise. Peace and a semblance of control over slavery, in exchange for an end to hostilities directed against the Council of the Harpy..." Zick was adept at masking the regret that plagued him.

Then the Watcher took advantage of his opportunity.

"To this day, one of my main tasks as the Watcher of Love is to ensure that the scourge of slavery does not digress beyond the boundaries established by treaty. And it will be a task that will pass to you, should the day ever come when you choose to collect the granted legacy." The master's hopeful old fox eye glittered.

"... You are not dead yet, and I have no intention of taking on the role of Guardian of Love, Master. 'But' I will continue maintaining the beneficial and privileged role of 'Heir of the Guardian' for a while longer." I replied, not being beguiled by Mother-Eagle's emotional trap.

"Tsz! You little-!... You are just a greedy black-hearted leech, disciple! Have you no pity for a poor man seeking peace and tranquillity in the few days he has left?!" Blurted out the old man seeking a severance package for early retirement.

"A greedy leech, but also wise and shrewd." I retorted.

"But not at all humble!" Blurted out the Guardian in search of mange.

"Humility and 'Reality of Facts' are two cousins in eternal hatred with each other. I always admit my shortcomings, 'When there are any,' and you, old layabout, hypocrite, and Mama's Boy, dare call me conceited!" But, if the old man wanted to pick a fight again, I certainly wouldn't be the first to back down.

"Hypocrite and layabout to me?! Hold your tongue, you impudent brat! Some have lost it and swallowed it for less! And, yes, 'I Dare'! I Dare Indeed!!! I dare confirm my accusation, calling you, Chick Still Attached to the Eagle's Tits, a Presumptuous and Arrogant Son-of-Demon!" Lately, Zick was looking for more 'Sparring' than usual. Perhaps, it was to better prepare me against the Witch-King.

"Swallow your tongue, you Guardian of my boots! Those are Dueling words!!!" I prepared my Imaginary Avatar to the best of my ability, transporting much of my will and concentration into my Mental Realm. Then I brazenly opened the gates of my Manor, ready to welcome my awaited opponent.

"And so, let the Duel be! I will teach you through tears and sobs the meaning of the word 'Humility', Green Imp!" The implacable Invader was ready to breach my domain.

*Sbam!* I slammed my fist down on the table and turned my chair opposite The Watcher's, opening my eyes wide for good to make maximum eye contact.

"Bring it on, 'Old Plucked Eagle!' The Green Demon is dying for roast chicken for dinner!"

****

End Part I

------