It wasn't a battle, it was a massacre.
Daemon's guards surged forward, their ritual-enhanced bodies moving with inhuman speed and strength. They crashed into the ranks of Ser Elbert's soldiers like a tidal wave, their swords cleaving through flesh and bone with sickening ease.
Daemon himself held back, his sword at the ready, watching as his men tore through the enemy with almost laughable ease. The sounds of screams and clashing steel filled the air, punctuated by the occasional wet thud of a body hitting the ground.
One of Daemon's guards, a giant of a man named Beric, grabbed a soldier by the throat and lifted him off the ground with one hand. The man's legs kicked frantically, his face turning purple as he clawed at Beric's iron grip. With a casual flick of his wrist, Beric snapped the man's neck and tossed him aside like a ragdoll.
Another guard, a wiry fellow named Darryn, danced through the chaos, his twin blades flashing in the sunlight. He moved with the grace of a dancer, spinning and weaving between the enemy soldiers, leaving a trail of severed limbs and gaping wounds in his wake, a feat that would certainly be impossible if not for his inhuman capabilities.
The blades of his guards were no valyrian steel, but the sole rune Hagalaz inscribed of the intent to the sword sharp certainly worked. Although Daemon was sure the blade would not last more than a couple of months under the magical strain. Steel was an awful magical conductor after all.
Daemon's attention was drawn to Ser Elbert, who was fighting valiantly against three of Daemon's guards. The master-at-arms was a skilled warrior, his sword a blur of silver as he parried and countered their attacks. But even he was no match for the enhanced strength and speed of Daemon's men. 'Imagine when I could get someone skilled to teach them how to properly fight?' He thought as he watched his men dismantling his brother's.
A guard named Matthos slipped behind Ser Elbert and kicked his legs out from under him. As the knight fell, another guard, Aldric, brought his sword down in a vicious overhead strike. Ser Elbert managed to roll away at the last second, the blade missing his head by a hair's breadth.
Daemon strode forward, his eyes locked on Ser Elbert. "Enough," he commanded, his voice cutting through the din of battle.
His guards immediately disengaged, leaving Ser Elbert panting on the ground, his sword still clutched in his hand. The knight looked around, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the scene of carnage. His soldiers lay dead or dying, their blood staining the earth a deep crimson. Daemon's men, by contrast, were barely winded, their armor cleaner than they should and their weapons dripping with gore.
"Do you see now the folly of your actions?" Daemon asked, his tone cold. "Your men never stood a chance."
Ser Elbert struggled to his feet, his face twisted with grief and rage. "You're a monster," he spat, raising his sword with trembling hands.
Daemon sighed, almost bored by the knight's defiance. He motioned for his guards to stand back, then stepped forward, his own sword at the ready.
The fight was over almost before it began. Ser Elbert charged, his sword aimed at Daemon's heart. Daemon sidestepped the blow with contemptuous ease, his own blade darting out to score a deep cut across the knight's thigh.
Ser Elbert stumbled, his leg giving out beneath him. He caught himself on one knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Daemon circled him slowly, his sword tapping against his shield in a mocking rhythm.
"Yield," Daemon said, his voice as cold as the true north. "Yield, and I may yet show mercy in the name of all the years you served my old family. Yield and I may forget when you joined my brother in the taunts and jabs at me. Yield and live to go to your family's arms."
Ser Elbert's response was to lunge forward, his sword stabbing at Daemon's belly. Daemon batted the blade aside with his shield, then brought his own sword down in a vicious arc. The blade bit deep into Ser Elbert's shoulder, cleaving through muscle and bone.
The knight screamed, his sword falling from nerveless fingers. He collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Daemon stood over him, his face an expressionless mask.
"You should have yielded," he said softly. He hated wasting time in mindless games and this was certainly the case.
Daemon slammed his shield into Ser Elbert's head, knocking the master-at-arms to the ground. Kneeling beside the fallen knight, Daemon placed a hand on his shoulder, channeling magic to mend the worst of his injuries. He didn't heal him completely, just enough to ensure he wouldn't die, leaving him with a multitude of scars, a useless sword arm as a reminder of his folly and a limp dick just because Daemon felt petty.
Rising to his feet, Daemon turned to his men. "Gather all the armor and equipment from the dead soldiers. Send for servants to have them cleaned, repaired, and added to our armory." He then turned to Joella, sounding as bored as he felt. "Have the bodies piled onto wagons and sent back to Strongsong. All hundred of them."
Joella nodded, then hesitated. "Should we provide an armed escort, my lord?"
Daemon shook his head, a grim smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've half of a mind to just burn their bodies in a pit, but that wouldn't look good to our people. See if there is any merchant on the way to Strongsong and pay them two dragons to see the bodies sent to Strongsong, the merchant's guard shall suffice for the journey."
His gaze swept across the battlefield, settling on Beric, the hulking guard who had snapped a soldier's neck with one hand. "Beric!" he called out. "Take twenty men and set up a rotation at the valley's entrance. Keep watch for any further action from Strongsong. I expect none, as my brother was most likely just testing my resolve, but if we are to not post any guards, he will take that as a sign of weakness."
Beric saluted sharply, then set about choosing the men who would accompany him.
Daemon's attention turned to a random guard standing nearby. "You," he said, pointing at the man. "Get a horse and ride for the Eyrie. Report what happened here today."
The guard saluted and moved to leave, but Daemon called out, "Wait." The guard froze, turning back to face his lord. "It would be better if I were to send a written report," Daemon mused, his mind already working on the wording. "Wait while I write it."
Joella followed Daemon inside, and once they were alone, she turned to him, concern etched on her face. "Was what you just did wise, my lord?"
Daemon dismissed her worries with a wave. "My brother was just saying 'hi', he will most likely say these man were not acting under his orders and promise Lord Arryn a token compensation to be sent to me."
"But it could have ended badly." Joella said, frowning. "What if you ended up dying?"
Daemon shook his head. "First of all, I may not be invincible, but to kill me would take a lot more than what he sent, I have enough magic to escape almost any attempt on my life. Secondly, in the unlikely event that I die without a direct heir, he would inherit my lands. Sure, many would grumble and raise a fuss, but without proof that I was killed under his orders, Jon Arryn would follow inheritance laws and name him the new lord of the valley."
He noticed Joella kept frowning, so he continued. "Look, Joella, I know hearing about these kind of things is daunting for one not raised as a noble, but this is all common. I didn't expect that he would try something so soon, but I expected something of the sorts eventually. Every landed noble without a heir is prime target to plots and assassination. Until I marry and have a son, this won't be the last attempt. My brother has until my eventual marriage to try having me killed, and he probably acted hastily if he saw how much we have been getting from Runestone in the last moons. He is not an idiot, he can connect the dots and he knows we and the Royces have some kind of agreement."
Joella's worries seemed to lessen a little, but she still seemed a little stiff. "Will this change any of your current plans?"
"What do you mean?" Daemon asked.
"About visiting the farms," she clarified.
"The visit to the nearby farms should take no more than a few weeks, and it will take moons before my brother muster a response, if he mounts any, that is. Enough time for my messenger to get to the Eyrie and the problem will solve itself." A sudden spark of inspiration lit Daemon's eyes. "Ironically, this fight has given me an idea of how to solve the farmers' problem."
Joella tilted her head, confusion written on her face.
Daemon pulled out his flask and took a deep gulp of water before explaining. "My strike on Elbert's shoulder damaged the nerves going to his arm, and it was the idea of nerves that gave me an epiphany." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "What if I built 'nerves' connecting all the farms to my castle? I wouldn't need to visit each farm to perform rituals or charge up runes. If I can somehow make the castle a central hub for my magic to flow through and connect it to the lands, I could theoretically increase the farms' yield remotely."
Joella considered his words, then asked, "But how would you connect lands many miles from the castle?"
A smile spread across Daemon's face. "I would do as the First Men of old did – use weirwood trees and their root network. I've noticed that the roots of the Godswood nearby spread through miles of land. If I could plant others throughout my territory, I could theoretically use their roots as the nerves for an all-out region enhancement to the soil."
He took another gulp of water, his mind whirling with the possibilities. "I admit it won't be as easy as I just made it sound, and it would probably take over a decade to spread the benefits throughout the region. But if I succeed? The valley could become the bread basket of the Vale."
Daemon strode to his desk, grabbed a quill, and dipped it into the inkpot. With quick, decisive strokes, he penned three letters – one addressed to whoever ruled the Eyrie as Jon Arryn was in the capital, another to King's Landing addressed to the King, and the last to Runestone to call for their support.
As he sealed each letter with the sigil of his former house, House Belmore, Daemon's mind wandered to the fact that he had yet to choose a name for his new House. He wanted it to stand as an independent entity, not merely a cadet branch of House Belmore. The sigil, name, and words would all need to reflect a magical theme, but that was a matter for another time.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Daemon focused on the task at hand. He left the house once more and approached the messenger who stood waiting. Daemon handed him the three sealed letters.
"Bring all three to the Eyrie," he instructed, pointing to a specific letter, "but only deliver this one to the person in command of the castle. The other two, you must give to the Maester there. One is addressed to King's Landing, the other to Runestone."
The messenger nodded sharply. "Right away, m'lord," he said, saluting before turning and heading towards the stables.
Daemon watched him go, then turned his attention to the grim scene unfolding before him. His remaining guards moved methodically among the fallen soldiers, stripping them of anything valuable – weapons, armor, even personal effects. The bodies were then unceremoniously piled onto wagons that had been brought for the purpose.
He observed the process with a detached, impassive expression. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of loosened bowels. The sounds of the guards' work – the clank of armor, the thud of bodies, the occasional grunt of exertion – seemed muffled, as if coming from a great distance.
Daemon surveyed the progress of the clean-up, satisfaction settling in his chest as he noted the efficiency and diligence of his men. Confident that everyone knew their roles, he strode towards the stables, his white steed awaiting him. A group of seven guards fell into step behind him, mounting their own horses.
Turning to face them, Daemon asked, "Do you have enough supplies for the two weeks we'll spend traversing the farmlands?"
One of the guards stepped forward, his posture straight and confident. "We've packed everything we need in the Aether Backpacks, m'lord. Enough for a month in the wilderness."
Daemon's brow furrowed. "Who came up with the name 'Aether Backpack,' and why?"
Another guard, whom Daemon recognized as Darryn, chuckled. "One of the smallfolk mentioned they'd heard the term 'Aether' used to refer to magic when he travelled to the Summer Isles, or so he says. Since you made the backpacks much larger on the inside, the name 'Aether Backpacks' just spread."
A groan escaped Daemon's lips. "Is everything slightly magical that I create getting the name 'Aether' followed by something?"
Darryn laughed heartily. "Indeed, m'lord. Every tool you've inscribed with runes has earned the moniker 'Aether' before its name. Even you've gained an Aether title."
Daemon's head snapped towards Darryn and he motioned for him to continue, another groan threatening to escape.
"They call you 'Daemon Aetherheart,' m'lord," Darryn revealed, a grin spreading across his face.
Daemon paused, the anticipated groan caught in his throat. "That's… not half as bad as I expected," he admitted, a hint of surprise in his voice. Shaking his head, he straightened in his saddle. "Enough dillydallying. We should reach the closest farm before sundown."
With a click of his tongue and a gentle squeeze of his legs, Daemon urged his steed forward. The seven guards followed suit, their horses' hooves beating a steady rhythm against the earth as they rode away from the keep.
From her vantage point on the hill where Daemon's house stood, Joella watched as the figures of her lord and his guards grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing over the horizon. A sense of unease settled in her stomach, but she pushed it aside. Daemon was more than capable of handling whatever challenges lay ahead, and she had faith in his abilities.
Turning back towards the keep, Joella squared her shoulders and set about ensuring that everything would run smoothly in Daemon's absence. There was much work to be done.
Hello... I kind of forgot that I hand't posted this chapter when I first intended. Sorry?
Well, next two chapters go a little bit deeper in magical aspects and then we will have the promised timeskips.I really intend to keep this under 150k words and we have already reached 20% of the total word count and we don't even have a castle!Some of the points you have all raised will be briefly talked about in the next couple of chapters. I will try to always answer your doubts or pointed out "plot holes" inside the story itself. However, some things may not be answered at all, either deliberately, as this story is written in a third person point of view limited byt Daemon's perception, so it is logical that he will miss things or reach wrong conclusions, or by mistake as I'm an amateur and in my head somethings have already been tackled but I failed to properly make it clear.
This is a work of passion, I try my best and eventually (or maybe regularly) I will fall short of your expectations. All I can promise is that I will eventually improve and maybe one day publish a novel of my own.
Hope you have a great week! Next chapter will probably be up by wednesday and will be bigger than this one.
P.S.: Thank you Tony for pointing out the bit about the gold dragons! I was operating under Robert's inflated prizes instead of something more belieavable, sorry guys! Will pay more attention