Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Hello everyone, and happy first of November to all of you.

Forgive me for the delay, yesterday, I just couldn't write. Due to personal problems...

I hope to make up for it with this chapter.

Thank you, everyone.

Happy reading!

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POV: Helman;

Torrhen's Square.

On the same evening, when Helman met Frost Blades...

"So, son. How bad is the situation?" Helman asked. He, Leobald, Qyburn and Duncan discussed recent events that might change their plans. Henceforth, the room they had chosen would be the 'Small Council Chamber' of House Tallhart.

The stone walls were lined with a layer of wood and padding made of leather and feathers. No one would be able to eavesdrop on the words spoken within this room. From now on, four members of the Frost Blades would guard, day and night, the only access to the room.

"I can't accurately answer that question. The effects could be good, bad or non-existent in the future. However, I do not believe that the North or House Tallhart will be directly affected by such events. "' Replied with sincerity the child who by now had reached the height of 4 feet in stature.

'Oh, Seraphinus... I hope I haven't caused you any trouble...' Thought the boy, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Needless to despair, the spread of that information can only be slowed down, but it will be impossible to stop it from spreading." Leobald.

"I agree, my Lord," Qyburn said, turning his head towards Lord Helman.

Helman nodded, looking thoughtfully at the table where the map of Westeros and Essos was engraved by hand.

"Maester, any news from the citadel?" Leobald asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yes, my Lord. Paul warns us that negotiations are still ongoing. However, he is confident that he can reach an agreement. We have Lord Hightower's favour now that we have established relations with House Tyrell. Also, House Hightower seems to have appreciated the fact that we have delivered the remains of Ser Gerold intact. The Lord of Old Town has considerable influence in the 'council of masters', my Lords." Qyburn said, expressing a tone of hopeful expectation. He resumed his speech:

"I fear that we have begun to attract too much of the Citadel's attention... Now that soap has become standard procedure in many operations, which previously required the use of alcoholic solutions, we have proposed our 'possible collaboration' in the copying and supply of books. The Citadel secretly contacted me to get me to 'get active'. In the same manner as our 'old friend', Maester Golbarth..." Said Qyburn with a cold tone remembering with pleasure the 'good times' spent in his medical-scientific research.

To all four, it was now clear, 'the method of operation' of the Citadel.

Each time a new maester entered the service of a noble family. They would wait for two or three years before activating the espionage services of their man on the inside. In this way, the maester who advised, instructed and healed had the time to establish a relationship of trust and obtain more influence within the House. But, of course, they made exceptions should there be: events or situations... more relevant.

"How should we act?" Helman asked, seeking the gaze of his three fellow council members.

"Father, me and Maester Qyburn have already worked out a possible countermeasure." Duncan stepped forward first.

"I am listening." Helman.

Duncan, let Qyburn speak.

"Yes, my Lord. We have deemed it 'convenient' that the Citadel continue not to doubt my blind loyalty to their order. We suggest sending monthly reports that secrete 'little' relevant or reliable information. Report a growth ratio: in business, trade, military and naval innovations and expansions, about two-thirds less than our current performance. I might be able to make the Citadel believe that House Tallhart does not have complete confidence in me and that key information is well guarded and secret. I could ask them for help. Financial help: 'relevant' information and of interest." Qyburn paused for a moment.

"That seems like the wisest move. That way, we could get: part of the Citadel's riches, consume their funds, send inaccurate and incomplete reports, send parts of the 'inaccurate or wrong' recipes about our products, make them focus their attention where we want it, and above all, make them waste their time and manpower." Replied Leobald in a euphoric tone.

"Precisely, my Lord. That and much more." Said Qyburn, nodding with a slight smile.

"I second the motion. Carry on, Maester." Qyburn nodded at Lord Helman's words.

"Uncle, how is it going with: the census, the paper project, and the food production?" Duncan.

"Pretty well...So far, we've gathered the information we were looking for on about 312,000 inhabitants of our lands. We are about 4/5 of the way to completion. Of course, there's always a few left that: we've missed or haven't been able to track down." Said Leobald, sifting through a report.

"The fifty scribes and accountants, whom we procured at Essos, have done an egregious job. All their families have already been settled in their new dwellings near the castle. Under Qyburn's supervision and guidance, they are also instructing another 200 new future employees." Leobald concluded.

On hearing the news, both Duncan and Helman showed a sign of complacency.

"The deal with House Glover and House Forrester is getting more involved." Leobald took another report.

"We are selling each lot, of 10,000 sheets each, at 20 silver stags. Making a profit of about 13 stags. They can easily resell the paper at four times the price and, in any case, all the lords of Westeros would buy back those lots with joy." Said Leobald in a confident tone. He went on to say:

"Rents of livestock and farm implements are going strong. As a result, we're increasing food production by 300%.

House Cerwyn continues to send us gifts, crows and emissaries. To thank us for the new methods of fertilization and cultivation." Leobald smiled.

"We continue to respond, to Lord Cerwyn, that 'House Tallhart, REMEMBERS, the help that, THEY, provided us during the last winter.'

In summary, excluding the Forrester payments, in Ironwood lots and their respective products and goods: in food and livestock, paid for by the Tyrells...

Currently, the estimated profits are:

Soap sales = 14,520 G.D. month.

Sale of paper = 1,950 G.D. month.

Agricultural tool rentals and fertilizer sales = 6,200 G.D. month.

Increased yield of taxes collected = 720 G.D. month.

For a total of...23,390 Golden Dragons per month. Oh, I almost forgot that the taxes to be paid have already been subtracted from this amount. Ahah!"

Said Leobald excitedly. Everyone in the room knew that Leobald was best suited for logistics, negotiation and control. He had innate natural talent. *

*Author's note: [Inhabitants and landowners, under the protection of House Tallhart, pay a tribute, of about 40%-45%, on their crops or goods.

House Tallhart pays a tribute of 25% to House Stark.

House Stark pays a tribute, of all taxes collected, in their domain, of 10% to the kingdom].

EndNote.

"Sounds good to me, Uncle." Both Helman and Qyburn nodded, confirming the compliments offered by Duncan.

"Father, I'd say it's time to select candidates to explore and research possible mineral deposits." Said Duncan, turning his gaze to his father.

"If we could find the minerals that I am looking for, as well as: iron, pig iron, copper, silver, gold and precious, we could begin a prosperous partnership with House Ryswell and Dustin." Duncan took a moment, pointing to a spot on the map.

"That way, every House, except for the Whitehills, who border us, will unhesitatingly jump down the throat of any possible enemy who, in the future, even tries to point the finger at us." Duncan.

"Yes, Son. Your philosophy: 'No use getting rich while your neighbours starve,' is paying off. Soon, we'll have the favour of the entire North...Leobald, let's start selecting candidates: scouts and miners, and kick off the 'Minerals' phase." He ordered Helman.

"With pleasure, my Lords," Leobald replied, giving a small jovial bow, addressing his brother and nephew.

"Father, as to the military situation? Do we have Lord Stark's permission?" Duncan asked.

"Lord Stark has given us his consent. We can increase the number of fixed duty soldiers to 3,000: 800 cavalrymen, 1,200 pikes and swordsmen, and 1,000 archers and crossbowmen. The physical and martial training programs have already been underway for two weeks... But, of course, the new 'Frost Blades' unit will remain secret...Are you sure that we can't still practice the new military tactics?" Finished Helman, asking his son.

"No, father. It's not time yet...For now, let's focus on economic stability and productivity. Those forces are enough to keep us safe in this time of peace. So let us still keep the 'blade' and the 'whetstone' well concealed." Duncan.

"I see...We will wait." Helman.

"As for 'Frost Blades'...I propose that the 'monitoring and exploration' unit be given to Maester Qyburn. The 'control and verification' unit to Uncle Leobald. And finally, father, you will manage the remaining two. If you all agree." He proposed to Duncan.

No objection was made. All present nodded.

"I would say, that is all. We will reconvene next moon. Barring any urgent matters. Thank you, all of you." Said Helman, giving the council members permission to take their leave.

End POV.

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POV Qyburn;

Torrhen Square.

Five minutes into the meeting...

Qyburn stood, strolling, near his 'true lord'.

A moment later, the silence of footsteps alone was interrupted.

"So, Ser Qyburn...As for, 'Our Friend'...were we able to find 'the one'?" He asked Duncan. He continued walking, turning his gaze straight towards his goal.

"I have finally succeeded in my endeavour, my Lord. I tell you with joy that we have also managed to strike a good deal...His family has already been found, and she will be given a safe place to live, as we promised...

It seems that he does not want to require anything else...for his arduous task." Said Qyburn. Then he continued...

"I assure you, my Lord...he is the best in his field. I have been amazed and in disbelief by his studies and research."

"Well...it's time to start preparing. The man, sooner or later, will make another move. If he had the resources in hand, comparable to Tywin's, he would be the greatest threat in the Seven Kingdoms." Duncan.

"Speaking of which...for that matter, in the Western Lands...the time should be upon us by now," Duncan asked, intrigued.

"Two of the women you have saved in the past, my Lord, are already in place and waiting...They have volunteered among the seven. So now that I will be able to avail myself of the 'Frost Blades' services, I will send them and the group that escorts them a strong hand." Replied Qyburn in a satisfied tone.

"Excellent...indeed, a good job Ser." Duncan.

"I thank you, my Lord." Qyburn.

"My Lord...if I may say so. I note, with regret, that the matter of 'prayer disclosure' has troubled you greatly..." Qyburn asked in a concerned tone.

"Indeed...it is as you say, Ser..." Duncan finally admitted:

"I'm worried about a friend."

End POV.

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POV Metatron;

Somewhere in a sky far away.

At an undefined time...

Metatron was guarding the doors of the entrance, which led to the reception rooms of the 'Great Father'.

He was waiting; he had to wait for all the guests to arrive before opening the doors and welcoming his brothers inside.

There were present, excluding him, 7 Archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Remiel and Zerachiel.

"Why are we still waiting, Brother Metatron?" Asked, Remiel.

"One is missing, unfortunately." Replied Metatron.

"I heard you, my loving and sunny Brother...I missed you...no...I missed you so much!" Said an Angel with a particular pair of black wings.

"LUCIFER!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Screamed Micheal. He pointed furiously his finger at the newcomer.

"Calm down, everyone...Our 'Father' has requested his presence as well. He is here at his personal invitation." Said Metatron unwillingly.

"Ahaha! Hear that? Father gave me permission! Come on, Micheal. Why don't you try throwing me back downstairs? Ahahah... Excuse me... uff... excuse me. You don't know how glad I am to be here. I wouldn't have missed 'this moment' for anything in the entire heavenly realm! Ahahah!" Said Lucifer, laughing and joking.

"GRRR!!!", "I HATE YOU!", "AH-AH", "IDIOT!", "SHUT UP!" "YOU'RE NO FUN.", "Shut up!" and "IF WE'RE HERE, IT'S ONLY BECAUSE OF YOU!" Screamed, last, Micheal.

"ME?! How could it be my fault? Let's hear it." Lucifer asked, feigning indignation.

"If you had done your job decently, Lilith would not have escaped to earth! And this whole mess would never have happened." Micheal.

"Ah, O mighty and magnificent one, Micheal...I beg you for forgiveness. After all, you manage, how many?.... 3 million angels.... and 30 billion good guys. I, on the other hand....about 1,900 billions 'CRAZY', 'HOMICIDE', 'MASOCHISTS'...But yes, why not? Let's blame every misfortune on Lucifer..." Replicated Lucifer.

"Don't you dare try to justify your incompetence!!!" Micheal.

"Well...Brother, I could say the same about you. If you had used a little more power and put some precautions in your pocket, that boy would still be alive. Was that my fault too?" Lucifer asked with a sarcastic tone.

Micheal didn't reply...he just stood there, silently grunting.

"By the way, is it true what they say about him? That he shattered the records of Gandhi? AHAHHAHA! What's he up to?" Lucifer.

"No one knows; only the 'Great Father' and Seraphinus know the answer. Our twelve younger brothers ceased counting after the 9th year..."

Raphael replied, thinking, terrified of the possible future that awaits one of them.

"NINE YEARS IN A ROW?! AHAHAH!!! I love it! He's a hero!!!" Lucifer.

"Quiet, all of you. This is it." Said Metatron. Lucifer also fell silent.

The eight angels approached the doors.

"What 'theme' havs he chosen, Brother Metatron?" Lucifer asked with honest curiosity.

"...Elf-Chinese." Then Metatron opened the doors.

A glow, red, gold, green and silver, dominated the eyes of all present.

Without logic, a room with hundreds of decorations adorned the main hall. It could see a staircase of shrubs at the end of the hall, leading to a large throne of horrible taste, made of gold and silver...

It was one of the favourite hobbies of the Great Father. In the beginning, he simply wanted to try every possible carnal form of all the beings he had generated. Any combination...no one knew the 'true' state of the 'Great Father'. He wanted to try any sensation, weakness, on his own skin, the peculiarity of every form of life. He thought that, in this way, he would better understand all his children.

Not long after, things degenerated. It had become, for centuries, his new favourite hobby. Mixing any race with any culture...some worked...others were unsightly.

Metatron approached the side of the throne. He was the number one advisor to the 'Great Father', the only one who could stand the power of his voice without repercussions.

After a minute, a side door near the 'throne' opened. A child, moon elf, with pink hair, eyes: one yellow and one black, less than 4 feet tall, wearing an obscene Chinese imperial ceremonial robe, too big for his size.

The child advanced confidently toward the throne. He had difficulty moving, stepping continuously on his robes.

Suddenly, he stumbled, hitting his face on the ground. Everyone stared at the scene without making a sound or a comment. Finally, the child rolled over, clutching his nose in pain...after a few seconds, he got up.

He began to breathe, closing his eyes...

"Sniff", "Sniff"...he was trying to hold back a sneeze.

All the angels instinctively covered their ears for protection.

"Phew" ....seemed like a false alarm...and then...

"ETTCHIUUUÙÙÙ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", *SKABOMMMMMMMUUUUMMMM* A sneeze, accompanied by an energetic roar, flooded the room.

The child-elf turned to his children, scratching his nose.

[I beg your pardon!] So communicated the child moving his hands and making strange expressions.

It was his way of communicating, with all his other children, except Metatron. The other angels would not have been destroyed by his voice, but they would have been wounded. The Great Father did not want this to happen. So he could limit all his other infinite powers, except for the 'Voice'.

The child resumed, immediately after the apology, his path. He began to climb, step by step, all 23 of them. The throne was too high for his body. He was trying to climb on it as if he was climbing over a bit of wall, a foot taller than him.

After a minute of failure, Metatron offered to give him a hand.

[No, no. Thanks, son, I can do it!].

After another couple of attempts, the 'Great Father' used part of his long ceremonial robe as a grappling hook towards the arm of the throne....finally managed to climb up.

[Well, my children. Forgive the wait.] Said the young figure on a throne gesticulating.

[Thank you, everyone, for being here. I would like your honest opinion regarding the over gathering power of faith of your Brother Seraphinus.]

All the angels bowed. All but one, Micheal, stepped forward offering a less formal but still respectful greeting.

"Great Father, I have been appointed by my other Brothers as their spokesman." Micheal.

[Go ahead, son. I'm listening.]

"The event that is happening, in that world, is unprecedented...Seraphinus has risen in rank 'Higher Angel', Great Father. We estimate that soon, with the exponential growth of prayers received...he may rise to the rank of 'Great Angel' within a brief period...

All of us are absolutely convinced that our Brother Seraphinus is deserving of such 'unexpected' accumulated power.....However, we are also concerned that perhaps he is not yet ready, not so soon, for such responsibilities." Micheal was interrupted by a laugh behind his back.

"Pfff!!! Hihi!...Oops! I beg your pardon, Father." Said Lucifer, unable to hold back a laugh.

Micheal turned around, glaring at 'the Fallen Angel'.

[Go ahead, son!] So encouraged the great father, pretending not to have heard Lucifer.

"Yes, Father. I think that we, 'Archangels,' think that perhaps some of that power could be held back to... emm...'slow down' the growth process. So that Seraphinus has more time. Time to learn and know the various responsibilities and knowledge that every Angel should first acquire...That's all, Great Father." Micheal bent a knee as soon as he finished speaking.

[Mmmmm...Yes...I agree.] All the Angels, Metatron included, looked up, with eyes full of expectation sensing those words.

[I agree that it is an unprecedented event... You might as well call it...mmmm yes 'an accident' let's say....'But'] All the angels in the room, except Lucifer, held their breath.

[If I remember correctly, to two of you, here present, whose names I will not mention, had experienced a similar event in the past...and I let it go.]

All of the angels, even Lucifer, began to cast dirty looks at each other, looking for those responsible...From that moment, everyone distrusted everyone.

[I don't want that this "problem" to be exaggerated because according to the regulation proposed by one of you and approved by me. All new Great Angels have to spend an apprenticeship period of one eon at the side of an Archangel ... It would be very sad, my children, if this were the case that one or more of you did not want to give this chance to your Brother Seraphinus for personal reasons].

At those words, all seven Archangels lowered their heads to the floor. Then, Lucifer seized the opportunity and shouted:

"BUT THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS, MY BROTHERS!!! I AM PERSONALLY DISAPPOINTED IN EACH ONE OF YOU!!! SHAME ON YOU! TRY TO PREVENT THE DESERVED RECOGNITION OF YOUR OWN BROTHER AND SON OF THE GREAT FATHER!!!! I REMAIN WITHOUT WORDS!... I apologize for the outburst, father...I could not resist." Said Lucifer, without any shame.

All the angels shouted the word 'Revenge' towards the 'Black Sheep' in their hearts.

Metatron, at the side, of the 'Great Father', remained impassive to the events.

The matter, which did not concern him directly, bore him. However, he understood his other seven Brothers. One of them, in all likelihood, would be given...a 'HARD TASK'.

[Before making a decision, I would like to talk with the person concerned. SERAPHINUSSS!!!] *CLAP CLAP!* Called to the child-elf, clapping his hands.

An angel appeared suddenly, kneeling with both hands and knees.

"GREAT FATHER!!!" Seraphinus.

[Welcome, my son, stand up and speak freely.]

"Great Father! It's all my fault!!! It's not Matthew's fault!!! It is only the fault of my incompetence and inability! I take full responsibility for the trouble I caused you and everyone here! I will return immediately every ounce of power collected which is not mine!!!!" Said Seraphinus concisely and directly.

The 'Great Father' was the only being with whom Seraphinus exposed himself precisely and quickly. After that, he did not deem himself worthy to say a word more than necessary to him.

[Calm down, son, no disturbance has been caused. On the contrary, today, you have allowed us to practice and improve in the future. I called you here, not to punish you or punish that boy, but just to ask you a question].

"Anything, Great Father!!!" Seraphinus.

[Do you feel ready, son? Are you prepared to take on the responsibilities and duties that that power brings?]

"I...I don't know, Great Father... I'm scared, confused and indecisive. I'm afraid...I'm afraid I'm not worthy." Said Seraphinus sincerely, with sadness in his voice.

The child-elf showed a warm smile upon hearing those words.

[I have decided! You will be left with that power, son!] It was the moment of truth. The tension for 7 Archangels was palpable. Even Metatron was intrigued by the 'Great Father's choice'.

[However...this is an unprecedented event...' extreme situations' require 'extreme measures'...] The child turned his gaze to the figure at his side.

[Metatron, you my son, will be Seraphinus' new guardian from this moment on! Seraphinus, listen to the advice and teachings of your older Brother].

"YES, GREAT FATHER! I will be the shadow of Metatron from this moment on! I SWEAR! THANK YOU, GREAT FATHER! THANK YOU, BROTHER METATRON!!!" Shouted Seraphinus, starting to cry from happiness.

[AHAH! You're welcome, son! You've earned it. Thank you, all of you. You are dismissed. I love you, my sons!] He gestured one last time to the child.

"YES, FATHER!!!! THANK YOU!!! WE LOVE YOU TOO!" Then, screamed in chorus, 9 angels fled the room.

....silence returned to the hall.

Despite his power and abilities, Metatron still couldn't quite understand, 'What had just happened.'

Trying, with all his might, to find the right words. Finally, he turned towards the figure at his side, who was currently fiddling with the sleeves of his dress.

"Father....." The child stared at the Angel at his call.

"I just wish that you would answer two questions for me..."

"Where did I go wrong?"

"And why..."

"WHY DO YOU WANT TO PUNISH ME?"