Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos-Chapter 111 - - The Lords of the North (III)

"Arrogant and barbaric people often only understand the language of the strongest. Only the fist matters to such people." Eddard of House Stark, watching Aenar take down the Northern Lords one by one.

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Robett was tall, with a deeply wrinkled face and gray-brown hair. He wore chain mail under a red overcoat, and his scarlet cloak was fastened with a silver brooch in the shape of a chain mail cuff. The heir to Deepwood Motte carried an impeccably silver warhammer, as well as the symbol of House Glover.

"Your Grace." Robett greeted Aenar with a rough, gruff tone.

"Lord Robett." Aenar returned the greeting.

Without exchanging any more words, they both advanced. Robett had confidence in his strength; his hammer could sink into an enemy's chest as if he were crushing a watermelon. But the moment blade and hammer collided, the heir to Deepwood Motte was violently pushed backwards.

The scene caused astonishment among the Northern Lords. It was the first time they had seen a sword surpass a hammer in terms of strength. What would it take to accomplish such a feat?

They assumed that the person would need to have the strength of a horse, but looking at Aenar's relatively strong arms and apparently slim body, they couldn't imagine how someone with that complexion could possess such strength.

"Lord Stark fed the boy giant wolf's milk?" Greatjon asked in disbelief.

"He must have. He's twelve and already so tall... he could grow even taller." Maege looked at Aenar with admiration.

Whether it was her or any other lord of the North, everyone admired the strong, and Aenar had proved to be powerful. With his earlier words, many lords had already put aside old resentments.

As they talked, Aenar advanced without waiting for Robett to react. To impress the Northern Lords, he used a rather barbaric method to bring down his opponent: he simply head-butted the heir to Deepwood Motte.

Bang!

With a loud, dry sound, Robett felt his head shake before falling unconscious to the ground.

"HAHAHAH!!!"

"Good fight!!!"

"Aenar the Powerful!!!"

The fight was short, but it satisfied the brutal and ferocious tastes of the Northern Lords. They liked fights like this: fast, brutal and intense. Only this kind of confrontation could be called a fight in their eyes.

Aenar looked at the Northern Lords and spoke in a calm tone: "Next."

Greatjon was not intimidated by Aenar's words and actions. He stood up and, with his long sword, walked towards the center of the Great Hall.

Some servants dragged the unconscious Robett out and cleaned up the makeshift arena.

"I'm going to enjoy breaking a few bones in that handsome face." Greatjon spoke arrogantly, not caring about Aenar's status.

"Since Lord Umber wants a brutal fight, let's fight with our fists, like our ancestors did." Throwing his sword at Leda, Aenar spoke with a calm, indifferent tone.

Greatjon was stunned for a moment, but then started laughing uncontrollably.

"HAHAHAHAH!!!!"

"Very well, young king, let's fight with our fists, just like our ancestors." Passing his sword to his son, Smalljon, Greatjon spoke with a rough, animated tone.

The Lords and Ladys of the North slammed their mugs full of beer on the tables, creating a lively rhythm full of excitement, while shouting words of encouragement:

"Give the young king a beating, make him learn the ways of the North!"

"The young king was brought up in the North, you idiot."

"Who did you call an idiot, you stupid animal?"

Whether it was Greatjon or Aenar, neither of them cared about the surrounding words. In an instant, they both advanced.

Greatjon was about two meters tall, a gigantic man even by the standards of the North, where men and women were generally tall. However, despite his size, he was surprisingly fast and arrived in front of Aenar in the blink of an eye.

However, the scene of Aenar being punched in the face didn't happen. Instead, Aenar's fist hit Greatjon square in the jaw, sending teeth and saliva mixed with blood flying through the air. The man staggered, his eyes wide in shock.

Then, under everyone's incredulous gaze, the blow was so powerful that Greatjon fell unconscious to the ground.

"Next." Aenar said.

Another man stood up. This time, it was Greatjon's son, Smalljon!

Although he was called "small", he was as tall as his father, perhaps even taller. House Umber really did produce giant men.

Aenar knew that House Umber had giant blood, although he preferred to forget how this lineage was conquered. Believe me, the giant women were as hairy as the males of the species and had such ugly faces that it was hard to imagine how the male giants could consider them beautiful...

Even so, Aenar admired the ancestor of House Umber for having done the impossible: sleeping with a female giant and, what's more, fathering a child with her.

"When my father wakes up, I'll say that I defeated the enemy that defeated him." Smalljon spoke with an arrogant tone, just like his father. No one had any doubt that he was, in fact, Greatjon's son. Father and son resembled each other as much as could be expected.

"Sword or fist?" Aenar asked curiously. He was prepared to defeat all the Northern Lords and, if necessary, even the Ladys, should they wish to fight.

"Fist. It's been a while since I've had a real fight." Smalljon replied, popping his stiff shoulder as he walked towards Aenar with a big smile, showing off his teeth.

Aenar smiled back:

"It's been a while since I had a good fight either. The last one was against Khal Drogo, the man who commanded the largest Khalasar of his time, with a hundred thousand warriors. I defeated him in front of his people and cut off his head."

Aenar's words won the admiration of the men present. Facing an army of a hundred thousand men was no ordinary feat and, surely, that fight deserved to be recorded in the books.

"The Second Field of Fire... I've heard of it." Smalljon commented with an excited smile. Just imagining facing someone like that made his blood boil with excitement.

Aenar smiled and assumed a fighting stance, like an experienced boxer. He advanced without giving his enemy time to react, shortening the distance in an instant.

Aenar's first punch hit Smalljon in the chest, taking his breath away. The second punch hit his shoulder, followed by the dry sound of bones breaking. The third blow caught the left side of Smalljon's body.

Like his father, he fell to the ground, like Goliath before David.

"Next." Aenar said with a calm tone, as if he had done something simple and ordinary.

However, the Northern Lords showed no fear in the face of Aenar's consecutive victories. On the contrary, it made them even more excited. Whoever defeated the young king would gain all the prestige he had been accumulating. How could that not excite them?

So, despite Aenar's quick and absolute victories, the lords were only more motivated.

What followed was simple, brutal and physical.

One by one, the Northern Lords were taken down, falling unconscious to the ground. Aenar showed no weakness in his attacks, breaking bones, teeth, hands and arms.

The atmosphere became more and more intense with his victories. Every time a Lord fell, the audience cheered.

Two hours later, all the Northern Lords were awake and didn't seem to care about their injuries.

When Eddard saw this, he breathed a sigh of relief. Things had gone more smoothly than he had expected. There had been no deaths, just a lot of broken bones. The ground was marked with blood and missing teeth.

The Lord of Winterfell rose from his seat and attracted everyone's attention.

Then, under the watchful gaze of the crowd, Eddard knelt before Aenar and swore his oath:

"In the name of the Old and New Gods, I, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Guardian of the North, do solemnly swear by my ancestors that I will fight alongside House Targaryen against their enemies. I will respect their laws and rule the North in their name, just as my children will, and their children's children."

When Eddard knelt, all the Lords of the North followed suit.

"House Umber..."

"House Karstark..."

"House Manderly..."

"House Reed..."

"House Mormont..."

One by one, all the Noble Houses of the North bent the knee. Aenar had convinced them that he was not a weak man and that he could lead them to victory on the battlefield.

The young king watched everyone kneel before him and just smiled, thinking:

The sourc𝗲 of this content is frёeωebɳovel.com.

'I'm coming, Robert. And I'll fight you head on.

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Note: the next few Chapters will have a time jump of a year and a half, after which we'll go to war.

WARGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!

I'm laughing too much at the content of Orcs in Warhammer, what a crazy and funny race.

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