Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Hello everyone here is a chapter that I hope you will enjoy.

Happy reading.

P.S.

Watch out for comments with soundtracks.

They might be useful in this chapter.

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POV: Denys Drumm;

Battlefield Bear Island.

About three minutes after a wall of fire split the camp in half.

Denys and 800 of House Drumm's best men, were sixty feet from the wall of fire.

The wall had already reached six feet in height.

Because of the flames and the black smoke they were generating, there was virtually no view of the camp.

Only clangs of metal and desperate screams could be heard.

A rain of arrows, thick and constant, prevented the entire group from taking a single step forward.

'But how could they have created such a wall! Even if they had launched barrels loaded with oil, they couldn't be that accurate!' Denys thought rightly.

The admiral of the Iron Fleet, did not know that the night before, about forty men disguised as ironmen, taking advantage of the darkness and pretending to be ironborn corpses, silently crawled halfway across the field, slowly distributing evenly on the ground: dry twigs, chopped pieces and coal dust, sprinkling everything with gallons of oil...

The catapult had mostly helped to intensify the fire on several key points.

"My Lord! We cannot advance! The heat is too intense!

We must wait for the fire to die out naturally." Said a captain holding his shield up high.

"Throw all the water you can get!

We can't afford to lose those men!" Denys ordered.

"My lord...we have already lost twenty men!

The rain of arrows is too impetuous now, Admiral.

They'll soon run out of them! We'll have to..." An iron backhand smashed a lip and broke one of the captain's teeth.

"IDIOT! LOOK!

THOSE ARE OUR ARROWS!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW!?

THEY CAN KEEP SHOOTING FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR!

PUT OUT THOSE FLAMES!!!" Roared Denys.

"WATCH OUT!!!", "SDURSDHH!", "BOOMM!", "SWAAMMP!".

An explosion of fire sent all the front rows backward...

The catapult continued to feed the flaming wall in multiple places with barrels of oil.

"UUARRGHH!", "PUT IT OUT!!! HELP ME!!!"

At least five men were starting to catch fire from spatters of burning oil.

'A CATAPULT!

BADNESS!

...Wait...no! that's not possible.

They didn't have time to build it...

This should be at most the second day they are here...

It would take at least 3 or 4 days...and they couldn't have transported it.' Thought Denys blaming himself for not thinking of it right away.

He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the harbor.

'Watt! Take four men and get to the docks right away!

Check that all is well and report any anomalies to me!

Am I clear?!" Said Denys to one of his officers.

"Yes, Admiral!" Watt began to embark on his three-hour march at a brisk pace.

'If it's true that I've been here for more than a day...then that means reinforcements will be here sooner than we thought!

If we lost all 3 battalions in that field...

We would not have enough men for our fleet!

I can't call up more men from the ships. I only have 2,100 more men with me...' Reflected the admiral.

The longships of the Iron Fleet were among the best ships in Westeros, but they required good seamen to maneuver.

A ship needed at least 30 able-bodied men to steer it without compromising speed, maneuverability, and navigational safety...

Denys had left 1,300 men in the harbor and taken 4,000 of the entire fleet with him, if they lost those three battalions of 1,500 men in full, his fleet would already have a shortage of men.

For the first time since the day his father put him in charge, Denys seriously considered withdrawing from the Island, accepting defeat, and cutting his losses...

If his hypothesis was correct, the situation of this army was more desperate than they could have imagined...

End POV.

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POV: Dacey Mormont;

Battlefield, Bear Island.

About a minute after the Army General gave the order to attack...

Dacey had succeeded...

She had persuaded her mother, Lady Maege Mormont, castellan of the Isle and head of the Mormont army forces, to let her participate in this battle.

It would be her first real fight...

Although Dacey had dreamed of this moment for years, she was afraid. The horrors of war poured against her like a speeding train.

Blood everywhere, amputated limbs, viscera, corpses, and a foul smell that would break your breath and induce you to vomit whatever she had eaten in the last week.

This was not how she imagined her first battle to be...

Until yesterday, her mother was adamantly opposed to the issue. Then that morning she suddenly changed her mind.

Dacey would be able to take the field along with the 350 Mormont warriors, but on the condition that she would always be placed in the back rows.

What she found strange was that a member of the Tallhart unit, whom Dacey recognized as Deputy Commander William, never let her out of his sight.

William was her shadow.

The fight had already begun; Dacey was still 40 feet from the nearest enemy.

She hoped he would be able to contribute to the fight. She wasn't going to let the men in her family suffer alone.

In these two days, Dacey was more confused than ever...

Her mother had told her that all those battle plans and defensive strategies, were Duncan's doing.

At first, the girl didn't want to believe it, but more and more people were praising 'Bloody Snow' with conviction.

The first victory had been epic.

Four hundred ironmen killed without suffering a single loss...

Not even in fairy tales could such an achievement be found.

The voice of the first victory echoed throughout the caves and reached the Mormont people. Hope flared up like a fire giving strength and possibility to the whole camp.

Her mother, Maege, didn't even blink an eye after hearing Commander Gellert's proposal of attack...

' Gellert...' Dacey found that man from the North...no that Warrior from the North, quite fascinating...

Every part of him, especially his voice, conveyed strength and confidence. She blushed like a little princess she so disparaged, in the presence of that statue made of flesh and charisma...

Too bad he wasn't of noble origins...

Her mother had been clear that in the future she would have to marry a noble party from the North.

In any case, young Dacey, couldn't even get young Lord Tallhart out of her mind...

She'd been trying hard to find him for the past four days, but the white-haired ghost had been slipping through her hands like fog...

The first three days Dacey was looking for him just to pick a fight with him, but yesterday... Yesterday the girl would have wanted to seek him out to apologize...

Dacey felt guilty for falsely accusing him of being a coward. To be precise a ' coward who would run away from danger by letting others deal with the problems of the North'.

All anyone could do was say how brave, Lord Tallhart was to fight on the front lines among his men...

To Dacey, that rumor seemed exaggerated, but she did not doubt that Bloody Snow was present along with the unit called 'Winters Guardian' during the fight.

She had seen him in passing, a hundred feet away, marching with his unit to head to camp that morning...

The boy might have fought like a wuss but even Dacey had to admit that Duncan was risking a lot more than she was, that until yesterday she wasn't allowed out of the wooden palisades...

'Will he be in the field right now, too?' The girl's thoughts were interrupted by a shout.

'ATTENTION! HE'S HEADING FOR LADY DACEY! PROTECT YOUR LADY!" Shouted a captain of the Mormont garrison as he crossed swords with ironmen.

"UUUAAARGH! DIE NORTHERN BITCH!!!" A madman armed with a two-handed ax was running towards her.

Dacey was ready, wielding her mace and shield, wearing her helmet and custom-made split armor.

"He's mine!" Said the girl with a determined look.

Before the man cleaved the first blow, two throwing knives penetrated his right thigh and left arm, noticeably distracting the warrior.

Dacey didn't let this opportunity pass her by, deflected the now inaccurate blow with her shield, and cleaved a heavy, accurate club blow across his opponent's knee.

"CRAACK!" The noise was almost sickening, the poor man's knee sounded like a crushed grapefruit...

Before the man could scream, Dacey aimed a second blow toward the jaw...The man, now without a mouth and chin, was dead.

'I did it! I am now a true warrior of the North as well!

I have succeeded in defeating an enemy of the Island!' Thought Dacey with confusion, joy, and disbelief.

"My Lady, don't get distracted!" Said a figure beside her.

Dacey looked up as she saw two more ironborn coming.

'THIS TIME THERE ARE TWO!... Will I make it? Or will I die here?...

NO! I MUST STAY FOCUSED!!!' Dacey recovered from her sudden panic attack and repositioned herself for the fight.

"I'll take the one on the right, my lady." Said William positioning himself next to her in an instant.

Dacey nodded regaining full confidence in herself.

William leaped first, anticipating his fellow ally.

The Guardian passed between the two men, Dacey did not notice that with that move, the northern warrior had significantly wounded the side of his opponent, weakening him.

The young warrior maiden again managed to prevail with ease defeating her second enemy.

About ten minutes later...

The battle was almost won, the north was about to gain its second victory in a row...

There were barely three hundred ironmen left and the allied forces had lost barely 50-60 men.

This wasn't a battle it was a one-sided massacre.

Dacey could see the terror in the look of their trapped enemy. She had even seen a couple of men, try their best and throw themselves into the fire for a chance to escape the camp.

Dacey fighting alongside her new friend and ally had managed to take down as many as 5 enemies. She was not very satisfied with her result...

She had seen with her own eyes William take down almost twenty of them...

But now Dacey didn't have the concentration or the strength to face a new opponent.

All that attention was on an individual less than 70 feet away from her.

An individual just over five feet tall wielding a double blade, wearing blood-soaked Tallhart armor from helmet to boots, and fighting his way through the fray like an unstoppable scythe...

"Who is that monster?!!!" Dacey thought aloud as he continued to stare in a state of hypnosis at those inhuman, fluid, and rapid movements.

She had been keeping count for a minute, and that 'monster' had already taken down thirteen enemies...

Thirteen opponents in a single minute.

End POV.

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POV: The Heir to The Watcher;

Battlefield, Bear Island.

About two minutes before a girl began to stare at a boy.

The eleven-year-old boy had already defeated three-level [7] and six-level [6] enemies.

He was looking for the most dangerous enemies to reduce the risk load to his men and allies.

At the beginning of the charge, the enemy was distracted, poorly organized, and frightened. The forces consisting of 300 Guardians and 350 Mormont soldiers, pierced the first three lines like a hot knife through butter.

The captain who led the remaining 600 remaining iron men, managed to build a 'decent' second line of defense against them. That was the first of that second group of enemies Duncan pierced. He had made sure that a good part of his enemies, witnessed the death of their commander pierced in the chest by a blade and then later beheaded with a second slash. A couple of men tried to avenge their captain, but they were impaled by two spears of two faithful Guardians.

After the death of his main target, Duncan decided it was time to tap into his master's legacy...

Before doing so, he thought back to Zick's last words.

["You've managed to learn eleven of the twenty-one maneuvers in just two and a half years...

My task is done."

"Master, don't say that, I will always need your guidance!"

"Ahahaha!...

Of course, you will always need it, your jokes only make chickens laugh!!! ahahahahahah!

...But as for the art of combat...no boy, you don't need me anymore.

Only Ramas, Narbo, and Baragh can keep up with you...

And I'm convinced that in less than two years you will be able to surpass my father's level."

"Thank you for everything, Master Zick!

"No my boy, thank you. You have given a poor old man true and only 'peace'...

At least seven moons will pass since our next meeting, who knows how much you will have grown by then! Ahaha! And Duncan...", "Yes, Master?"

"Remember, from now on, you will be the bearer of my and Vharro's legacy.

You are the heir.]

Bloody Snow activated his breathing technique.

A technique that he would only use in extreme situations like this.

This technique had been created by himself to help him more easily assimilate and endure the tremendous price that the art [Closing the 21 Gates] required.

It would completely cut off his emotional state and turn him into a machine.

A death machine that felt no regret, hesitation, doubt, or fear.

In those five minutes, he would no longer be a human being, but rather an object, or to be more precise 'A Blade'.

The two metal objects he held in his hands would become an extension of his body. Additional limbs that he would perceive as his own.

If the edge of either blade had even brushed against anything, that no longer human being would have felt it as a shiver on his skin...

"Phew..." Time slowed down and the 'Death Machine', charged towards its targets.

The first target tried to pierce him with its spear.

With minimal effort and movement, the machine lowered its shoulder, dislocating it voluntarily, and the spear slid its entire length into the absolute vacuum.

The instrument of death overcame the first catch by slightly moving its arm-blade a few inches.

That foe's belly was opened wide, dropping several organs to the ground.

Two more targets armed with blades and shields charged toward the seemingly lonely and surrounded target.

The Machine rotated the angle of its left arm to pierce a spot normally almost impossible to hit in that position, and as it did so, it rotated its head backward tilting its back almost all the way.

"AARG!!! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU ?" Said a panicked prey at the sight of his enemy staring back at him from that unnatural position. The instrument of death simply rotated on itself to regain a more human form, it mowed two spinning slashes while amputating the arms of that second prey.

" LET'S ALL ATTACK TOGETHER!" Shouted another prey to four of its comrades.

The five men condemned to oblivion, cleaved two ax blows, two longsword strikes, and a pike lunge simultaneously in five different directions.

'Gate [3] and [9]' Thought the monster instinctively.

With two different fluid movements made simultaneously by the two arms, the monster once called Duncan deflected the pike toward the armpit of an ax wielder, parried two sword strikes, and slashed the belly of one prey and the throat of another...all in one movement.

In that altered state, the flaws or openings of the enemy stood out like a bucket of fresh paint in a painting.

Bloody Snow's perception was at its highest, no movement escaped within the radius of his 'Death Zone'.

Only three men remained, and one was badly wounded just below the armpit...

Fortunately for the three men, the monster finished them off in a matter of moments, before they could comprehend the meaning of 'terror' and 'helplessness'.

Another prey was in sight, the monster severed his leg at knee level.

Two more followed the last one, one of them was pierced in the heart, the second one was stabbed from behind on the back of the head.

The storm of death and blood didn't stop and demanded the 'Price of Blood' it so craved from those frightened prey.

About four minutes later.

Duncan Tallhart stopped his breathing technique, his body burning and screaming for mercy...

For at least two days, he would not be able to practice those movements, doing so would have required physical stress that would have caused fractures and severe muscle lacerations...

He resumed normal movement, panting slightly...

About two hundred iron men remained and they were surrounded.

Behind them was the wall of fire and on three other sides, three hundred men from the North mainly Guardians. The other forces were dealing with other small groups divided and surrounded.

Those ironmen were terrified...

They weren't paying attention to the other 200 spears and swords pointing at them...

They only had eyes on the being that had just mowed down nearly fifty of their loyal and valiant comrades...

The ironmen retreated with every step Bloody Snow took towards them.

Gellert approached his General and said:

"They're shaking like leaves, General...they can't seem to stand the northern climate."

"Well, we can't leave them in that miserable condition, Commander...

Let's help them warm up a bit." Bloody Snow.

Gellert nodded with a smile and ordered two hundred Guardians:

"LET'S PUSH THEM TOWARDS THE FIRE!!!"

"AWOO!" Two hundred swords and spears responded.

About forty minutes later...

Duncan was back at the allied camp.

The eight experienced healers, plus about twenty skilled assistants, were working to, bandage, stitch, disinfect, and in extreme cases, amputate body parts of a hundred wounded Northern warriors. Among them, forty were Winter Guardians. There were the thirty who had been wounded initially during the first phase of the battle and the ten from the latter...

Finally, Duncan mustered up the courage and asked what he never wanted to ask.

"How many, Gellert...

How many brethren have we lost?" The army general asked as he closed his eyes.

"...Four, my lord...

Ronald, Jonathan, Ethan and...Jeremy, General." The last name was a stronger stab in both of their hearts.

For Duncan because he had spoken to Jeremy less than two hours ago and fought alongside him the entire first night...

During the wait leading up to the first fight, Jeremy told his general about all his experiences conquering the maidens of the North, trying his best to bestow advice on his general regarding women...

It was worse for Gellert; Jeremy was one of his closest and most trusted companions. One of his best friends who had always been at his side supporting him in all his trials and choices...

The two leaders stood in silence with their eyes closed for more than a minute. Then Duncan spoke.

"The injured? Someone in need of 'extreme' care?".

"No my lord, fortunately, we have only one seriously wounded, but the first healer says he will be fine and back to full strength within a month at the latest," Gellert replied with a very small nod of relief.

"As soon as I can, I will accelerate the treatments.

Gellert...

Make sure the bodies of our comrades are treated as 'treasures of the North'...

They must reach their families in a monumental state." Bloody Snow.

"Yes, General. You have my word." Duncan nodded and walked away going to mourn his men, friends, and comrades in his way.

End POV.

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POV: A Northern Orphan.

Allied Camp, Bear Island.

About five minutes after 347 brothers began to mourn and honor four of their comrades...

The seven-year-old girl, couldn't tear herself away from the cold, bloody body lying on fur blankets just behind a wooden defensive fence.

She kept crying and desperately shouting the same phrase:

"Father! Father! Wake up!!! Get up, please...sigh...sigh...PLEASE!!!"

The poor inhabitant of Bear Island, now without a surviving family member. continued to futilely shake the helpless body of the valiant soldier of House Mormont, who had died in combat along with 72 other of his fellow soldiers...

An assistant healer tried again to comfort the little girl by trying to pull her away from the blood-soaked body.

"NO! DON'T TOUCH ME! NOO YOU WILL TAKE MY FATHER AWAY FROM ME!

LEAVE ME!" Screamed the little girl in panic and fury.

"Calm down baby, I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just trying to help you." Calmly replied the young would-be healer.

A figure, noticing the sad scene, approached the little girl placing mana on the young helper's shoulder.

"I'll take care of it, you go and take care of the other injured." Said an eleven-year-old.

"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord." The boy bowed and walked away from the spot.

"Hello, little northern warrior.

My name is Duncan, may I know your name?" The boy asked as he introduced himself.

The little girl was shocked for a moment by this presence with white hair and blood-soaked clothes.

For a while she was scared, but then she realized that she too was stained with blood...after a few seconds, she answered.

"Minny...

Minny daughter of Boros...sigh..." Minny replied pulling her nose up.

"Minny, nice to make your acquaintance...

Minny, you seem like an experienced maiden who knows about love affairs.

Could I ask you for some advice? You know there's a girl I like, but I don't know how to talk to her...

Will you help me out, Minny?" The boy asked making a sad but funny face.

"...A girl?

And who is she?" The little girl was distracted for a moment, intrigued by the unusual and intriguing request.

"Well, I'll show her to you if you take a walk with me.

Care to join me, Minny?" Duncan offered his hand to the little girl.

Minny thought about it for a moment...and then grabbed the hand, breaking away from that cold body for the first time in over ten minutes.

About two minutes later...

Duncan noticed an object in the corner, near what appeared to be its owner.

He approached the owner holding Minny's hand.

"Excuse me, is that your lute?" Duncan.

"Huh?...Yes, my lord!" Replied a young Northern minstrel...

"Could I borrow it for a while? I promise not to spoil it." Duncan.

"Of course, my lord. Do as you wish." The minstrel.

"Thank you." The boy took the instrument and sat down on a boulder.

"Minny, I may have found a way.

A good friend of mine named Jeremy once advised me to sing a song to win a maiden's heart.

Could you please listen to it and tell me if she might like it?" Duncan.

"YES! Yes! A song!!!" The little girl almost jumped to her feet in elation. Minny loved songs.

"Ahah...Okay...make sure Minny you have to be honest...

Urgh mmm, Laaaa...Yes, Okay.

I'm ready..." Minny sat on the floor cross-legged.

"What's it called?

What's the title?" Minny.

"Oh right...

I won't lie to you Minny, the song isn't my creation...

Let's just say I heard it sung by a very good Bard a long time ago.

The title is [ Wicked Game ]...and it goes like this:

'...Musical Intro...Intro...'

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

No, I don't wanna fall in love...

No, I don't wanna fall in love

With you...

With you...

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

And I don't wanna fall in love

No, I don't wanna fall in love

With you

With you

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

Strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

No, I don't wanna fall in love

No, I don't wanna fall in love

With you

With you

No, I

Nobody loves no one

....."

Duncan continued to repeat these verses while playing the lute for over four minutes, closing his eyes and focusing only on the notes and his voice.

He had no idea that a crowd of over one hundred people was approaching that corner to hear the song better.

Duncan was so exhausted and dejected by the course of events, that he didn't even notice that a twelve-year-old girl had been stalking and spying on him for almost an hour.