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Chapter 81: House Redrain!
🕑 Added 2024-04-27 20:52:37 +0000 UTC"Oh shit!" Damian cursed under his breath as the Valyrian steel of 'Red Rain' sliced through Donnor as if he were naught but parchment, the deadly blade arcing relentlessly toward his neck.
"Die!" Dunstan bellowed with manic fervor.
Fortuitously, Damian's reflexes were supernaturally sharpened, bolstered by the 'Bless Strength' enchantment, his innate prowess, and the subtle magics at his command. With the swiftness of a shadow, he ducked low, evading death by the breadth of a hair as the sword whistled ominously close, severing only a few strands of his hair in its thirsty swipe. The crowd’s reaction was instantaneous, a wave of gasps and murmurs sweeping through the assembly as the tension of the duel crackled like wildfire.
Springing up from his low stance, Damian's gaze sharpened, focusing intently on Dunstan, who suddenly found himself vulnerable without the cover of his now-fallen ally. The flicker of surprise etched on Dunstan's face betrayed his shock at Damian's nimble escape, presenting Damian with the perfect opportunity.
The spectators held their breath as Damian closed in. The atmosphere grew taut with anticipation as he neared Dunstan, who was frantically trying to regain his balance after his failed, overreaching attack.
"Seems you value victory over the lives of your companions, Drumm," Damian called out, his voice carrying clearly over the field, laced with a cold, mocking edge. Dunstan, spooked by Damian being so close to him, tried to jump back to create some distance.
However, just as he bent his knees, ready to spring away, Damian's voice cut through the tension.
"Brothar vēgor," Damian intoned solemnly and softly, the ancient words spoken not with the shout of a warrior, but with the clear, resonant tone of a maester reciting from an old scroll.
Dunstan's reaction was immediate and involuntary. His body tensed, and his movements halted abruptly as the new spell took effect, clouding his focus. His eyes, previously narrowed and clear, now flickered with confusion, his brow furrowing as if he was trying to grasp thoughts that flitted just out of reach. The effect was subtle yet profound, enough to stall his retreat and leave him momentarily vulnerable.
Seizing the advantage, Damian did not hesitate. With Dunstan momentarily bewildered, Damian moved, his own sword ready. But it was not with the sword that he struck; instead, as Dunstan struggled to clear his mind and regain his bearings, Damian again reached for the small bronze knife at his hip.
The throw was precise and merciless. With Dunstan's defensive instincts dulled by the spell, he could only watch, his actions delayed by the fog in his mind, as the knife arced through the air. The blade slipped through the narrow eye slit of his helmet—the only gap in the otherwise steel helmet—finding its mark with deadly accuracy.
Dunstan's body jerked once, sharply, as the blade penetrated. Then, as if his strings had been cut, he crumpled to the ground, his sword slipping from limp fingers to clatter against the stone, his life ended as abruptly as he had ended his comrade's.
As Damian stood over Dunstan, the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and stunned silence. The brutal and swift conclusion of the duel left no doubts about Damian's fighting capabilities or his nickname as the 'Swift Wolf'
The crowd murmured, some with disdain for Dunstan's actions, others with grudging respect for Damian's prowess, and most of them seemed happy to see the Ironmen defeated and killed in such a one-sided duel.
Damian approached Dunstan's fallen form, reached down, and grasped the hilt of the knife embedded in Dunstan’s helmet. With a forceful tug, it came free, accompanied by a grotesque sucking noise that drew winces from the onlookers. Damian wiped the blade on Dunstan's cloak, the fabric absorbing the dark, viscous blood, before securely returning the knife to its place at his hip.
Then, his eyes settled on 'Red Rain,' the legendary Valyrian steel. It lay beside Dunstan, its dark blade catching the waning light, whispering secrets of battles fought and blood spilled. Damian stooped to pick it up, his hand closing around the hilt with a sense of reverence and inevitability. As he lifted the sword, the crowd seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the weight of history and the power encapsulated in the metal.
As the dust of the duel settled and Damian held 'Red Rain' aloft, the assembled onlookers murmured with keen anticipation, many assuming he would claim the Valyrian steel as a spoil of victory. After all, the legendary blade was not merely a weapon but a symbol of immense power and prestige. However, Damian's ensuing actions confounded all expectations, hinting at stratagems that reached far beyond mere personal gain.
"Raymond, come forth," Damian commanded, his voice slicing through the murmurs and speculative whispers that filled the air.
A figure broke from the mass of bodies, approaching with a deliberate, soldierly stride. "Yes, my lord," Raymond responded, his tone imbued with the discipline of a seasoned warrior.
The crowd’s chatter intensified, curiosity peaking as they observed this poignant exchange. Damian scanned the assembly, ensuring the undivided attention of every soul present—lord and commoner alike.
"House Drumm shall henceforth be no more," Damian proclaimed with a resonant voice that stilled the air around him. The finality of his words hung heavily over the throng. "Thus, you shall govern Old Wyk as my vassal from this day onward. This blade, and your new station, are your rewards for the loyalty and valor you displayed in this war." He extended 'Red Rain' towards Raymond, the gesture laden with drama against the backdrop of the dumbstruck crowd.
"Take it; it will suit you better. Henceforth, you will be known as Raymond Redrain."
A symphony of gasps and murmurs rippled through the audience, shock and awe intermingling at the sight of such a significant transfer of power.
Raymond accepted 'Red Rain' with a reverence befitting its storied history, grasping the hilt in a gesture that acknowledged its physical heft and its symbolic burden. He bowed deeply to Damian, an act filled with profound respect and fealty.
"Thank you, my lord. I swear by the old gods to serve you faithfully, to honor the trust you've placed in me, and to uphold the strength and justice of your rule. House Redrain shall stand steadfast beside you, through storm and calm," Raymond vowed, his voice resounding with sincerity and the unyielding promise of unwavering loyalty.
Comments
Michael Marquardt
Dude who gives up a valyrian steel sword like that
