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CHAPTER 212
295 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
The distinction of becoming a paladin was not an honor extended to every noble; it was a privilege reserved for the cream of the crop. While any noble could aspire to become a templar, reaching the esteemed status of a paladin required exceeding the skill level of the most illustrious among the templars within the temple. This was no simple feat; it demanded exceptional skill, unwavering commitment, and the heart of a true warrior.
The revered title of a paladin was intended to be safeguarded for the elite, and Aermir was resolute in his determination to maintain its prestige. He was unwavering in his resolve not to water down this esteemed status by admitting those who fell short of the exacting standards set forth. To ensure that only the most exceptional individuals earned the cherished title of paladin, he established a stringent initiation process. Aermir called upon the formidable Harlik, a revered figure among the paladins, to oversee this rigorous trial by combat. Those who aspired to join the paladins had to confront Harlik in battle and endure his punishing blows without a hint of complaint.
Only those who exhibited unwavering determination and indomitable strength in the face of Harlik's relentless assault were considered worthy. This method of selection not only guaranteed that the most unyielding candidates ascended to the ranks of paladins but also cemented Harlik's position as the second-in-command among the paladins—a position he had rightfully earned through his undeniable martial prowess and unwavering dedication.
Smalljon's elevation to the prestigious rank of paladin without having to undergo Harlik's demanding trial was met with both respect and a tinge of uncertainty among the paladins in the festivities. While it was true that Smalljon had been spared the intense physical confrontation with Harlik, the doubts about the outcome of such a duel lingered in Aermir's mind.
Stats alone did not dictate the outcome of a battle; it was the combination of strategy, technique, adaptability, and strength that often determined the victor, but there was a big difference between the two.
Harlik, a dedicated warrior with unwavering loyalty to Aermir's cause, had been relentless in his pursuit of martial excellence. He committed himself to daily grueling training sessions, pushing his body to its limits. His determination to prove himself as the rightful second-in-command was evident to all who witnessed his tireless efforts.
Aermir had gone to great lengths to support Harlik's journey to greatness. Using his knowledge of herbology and arcane arts, he crafted simple elixirs tailored to enhance Harlik's physical capabilities. These elixirs, combined with rigorous training, had indeed elevated Harlik's prowess.
However, Smalljon's sudden burst of power through the awakening of his latent mana had set him apart. His strength had surged to an astonishing 18.9, a testament to the potential within him.
...
Just as the atmosphere was beginning to regain its celebratory spirit, a messenger from Moondrift Port burst into the gathering. His face was flushed with urgency, and his words tumbled out in a rush, conveying the distressing news of Aermir's ships. The messenger didn't merely recount the incident; he embellished the sailors' accounts with vivid details, fueling the flames of outrage that flickered in the hearts of the assembled Northern lords.
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The Northern lords were known for their forthrightness and honesty, never hiding their emotions. Their expressions now portrayed a deep-seated anger. Greatjon Umber, known for his fiery temperament, was the first to unleash his fury upon hearing the news. His voice boomed through the hall as he railed against the Sistermen, his words laced with disdain.
"Those sissy plundering hypocrites! Who among us doesn't know that they're nothing but pirates who've raided our ships, and now they have the audacity to flaunt it openly? To make matters worse, they've dared to insult the Druid and the Old Gods!" Greatjon's rage was palpable as he flung his goblet aside, his voice echoing his indignation.
He punctuated his tirade with a resounding question that hung heavily in the air, demanding an answer from all those in attendance. "Are we going to take this lying down? Are we going to let them walk all over us?"
Greatjon Umber's impassioned outburst resonated deeply with the other Northern lords. As his words reverberated throughout the hall, a collective wave of anger surged through the assembled nobility. Indignation and outrage welled up within them, fueling the flames of their fury.
Voices began to rise in agreement with Greatjon's sentiment, echoing his fiery resolve. The Northern lords were united in their wrath, no longer willing to tolerate the Sistermen's audacious acts of piracy and their affront to the Druid and the Old Gods. It was evident that action was imminent, and the room buzzed with the fervor of their shared determination to respond to this affront.
Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, rose from his seat with a commanding presence. His voice, strong and resolute, cut through the rising clamor in the hall. As the room fell silent, all eyes turned to him, for his words carried great weight in the North.
"My fellow lords and ladies," Lord Stark began, his tone measured and authoritative, "I understand the depth of our anger and the insult we have suffered at the hands of the Sistermen. But let us not rush headlong into conflict. The North has always valued honor, and we shall act with honor in response to this provocation."
He continued, "We should send a delegation to the Three Sisters, led by a diplomat. We will demand reparations for the damage inflicted upon our ships and, most importantly, a formal apology for the affront to the Druid and the Old Gods. If the Sistermen refuse, then we shall consider further action."
As tensions ran high and Lord Stark's attempt to calm the situation seemed futile, Aermir stepped forward, his voice unwavering yet filled with conviction.
"My lord, I hold the utmost respect for you, but I find myself at odds on one crucial matter."
The hall fell into hushed anticipation as every eye turned toward Aermir, their attention rapt.
"In our North, honor has never been our central tenet. Our core values have always been the safeguarding of our land, its people, and our revered Old Gods. Honor has been a consequence of our valorous deeds, not the goal in itself."
He paused, allowing his words to permeate the hearts and minds of those gathered. Heads began to nod in agreement, recognition of the profound truth in his words.
"Consider the tales of your ancestors. Bran the Builder did not raise the Wall for honor; it was a bastion to protect the North. Jon the Fierce did not drive wildling raiders from our lands for honor's sake; he sought the safety of our kin. Even Torrhen Stark, when faced with the dragon's fire, did not kneel for honor; he did so for the survival of our people. In the North, our virtues are twofold: courage and survival, and honor does not claim its place among them."
A fervent energy swept through the hall, and the chants for war surged once more. Aermir's words had stirred the Northern spirit, and the prospect of defending their land and legacy resonated deeply within every heart.
Aermir's fervor would not be quelled, and he pressed on, adamant in his stance.
"My lord, we all acknowledge your good intentions and your unwavering commitment to the North. But let us not forget, the insult was directed at me, not you. I am the one they dared to strike, and I, for one, will not present my other cheek for these craven fools to slap as they please."
The atmosphere within the Great Hall of Moat Cailin had escalated to a boiling point with Aermir's impassioned words.
"Diplomacy is a noble path, but it requires two honorable parties to engage in it. Cowards and cravens do not heed the words of diplomats; they respond to strength. Justice, my lord, is what I seek, not empty diplomacy."
A resounding chorus of agreement erupted among the gathered lords. Lord Stark, however, offered a tempered perspective.
"We cannot rush to war with the Three Sisters without first seeking Lord Arryn's counsel."
Aermir swiftly interjected, his tone unyielding.
"My lord, let us not forget Lord Arryn's response when we approached him with claims of his people's piracy. Has the Sistermen's treachery been a single occurrence? Did Jon Arryn ever take decisive action against his own kin? Or will he, as he often does, demand irrefutable proof while sweeping the matter under the rug?"