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~~~Third Person, Eighth Moon, 277 AC~~~
~~~Hunting Camp, Crakehall~~~
The mood in the camp was in full swing, there were campfires everywhere, musicians and ballads in almost every major tent, and they sang everything from sad and romantic songs of Lys to war songs of Volantis or Braavos. And even the Rains of Castamere could be heard once.
The lords gossiped with each other, talked about the swollen bellies that some ladies tried hard to hide, the infidelities between couples, how much gold each had, which castle was bigger, it was a competition for which one was better than the other.
But all those conversations, the shouts of jubilation, and the music were silenced when huge trumpets made of oak were blown by Xandarian men, and the thunderous sound spread across the field.
At the same time, servants came within a hundred feet of Azrael's group, and taking red artifacts from a box, placed them on the ground and then lit them.
The result was immediate, the tail of the red discs caught fire and propelled them one by one into the sky, while the lords, knights, servants, guards, and lowly people were stunned and amazed by the rain of colors that could be seen in the sky once the fireworks exploded in the sky.
The spectacle motivated everyone to go to the center of the camp, where they saw that Azrael and Valka were already gathered, with the northern lords. This made many people interested in what was happening.
Among the groups that arrived, was that of King Aerys, who along with Queen Rhaella and Prince Rhaegar in tow, arrived at Azrael's side, with Aerys being just as, if not more curious about what was going on. "King Aerys, the first hunt is over, the winners will be in camp soon," Azrael said to Aerys, giving him clarity on the matter.
"OH that's fantastic, and the sword?" Aerys asked excitedly, as he looked at Azrael as if he was looking for the sword somewhere. "It's not done yet, I'll give the order to have it forged once the winner chooses what this one will look like."
Aerys nodded.
The atmosphere became a bit heavy as everyone waited for them to say what was going on, so Azrael decided to explain, to that end, a servant quickly brought him a megaphone, made of light and functional wood, "Nobles of Westeros!" Azrael began to speak, "The first hunt is concluded, the basilisk has been left for dead and now we await the winners!"
The revelation caused a sea of murmurs and exclamations of surprise, some eager to see who the lucky winners had been, and others with serious and Stoic countenances, learning that their prize had slipped through their fingers.
.
.
.
Within two hours of the news of the victory of the first hunt, groups of wounded men began to emerge from the forest, their morale low and their friends missing, and they were faced with the painful reality of returning to camp after the hunt was over, announced by the sound of trumpets and fireworks.
The sight raised awareness of the danger that the hunts represented, because of the three hundred men who entered the forest, only one hundred and eighty returned in good condition, and about fifty were seriously wounded, missing arms, or with brutal bites on parts of their bodies.
Some were carrying bodies on horses who had arrows in their throats or chests, indicating that the basilisk was not the only enemy in the forest, human greed and avarice, which caused friendships and brotherhoods to be broken and betrayed, was also the enemy.
The whole sight sent shivers down the spines of the observers, realizing that the danger was far greater than they expected and that they would also have to protect themselves from the people with whom they went into the forest to hunt. But that was the game, and many were only determined to win because in the game, you either won or you died, there was no option of returning empty-handed.
"The Mountain that rides!"
"The mountain managed to hunt him down!"
"What a great beast!"
Euphoric shouts rang out as from between the tree line, a huge man riding atop a large warhorse emerged from the forest, behind him, a group of seven men dragged the corpse of the basilisk, which was still with the spear and arrow embedded in its body.
The sight surprised many, Azrael for his part only observed the sight with a serene and calm look, although he noticed the blood staining the right sleeve of The Mountain's gambit. Noting that The Mountain had not come out of the altercation unscathed.
The Mountain's group came to the center of the camp, looked at all those gathered, and then rested their gaze on Azrael, "your beast has been slain," The Mountain said loudly and loudly, causing several to let out choked screams, at the way The Mountain had spoken to Azrael.
"Should I kill him?" Cakoqqo asked, taking his arakh and looking at The Mountain with a cruel smile, "while I would like to see that, now is not the time." Azrael replied. Who only designed to look at The Mountain with a serious look.
Janna, who had overheard the conversation, looked at Tywin beside her and admonished him; "control your rabid dog."
"Ser Gregor," Tywin spoke, which caused The Mountain to get off his horse and walk to him, 'my lord,' Ser Gregor commented, kneeling in front of Tywin, "I have done as you commanded, I have brought you the carcass of the beast."
As if on cue, the men carrying the basilisk's body brought it to Azrael's feet, lowering it carefully. Under the expectant cold gaze of the Blood Riders.
"The first hunt is over!" Azrael spoke, dispersing the hostile atmosphere in the air. "The prize, as promised, is a sword of Netherite steel, a steel much stronger, tougher, and lighter than Valyrian steel!"
Valka signaled, and Onno and Essino took two steps forward, "As a token, the power of Netherite steel will be put to the test!" Valka said.
"The man sure is lucky," Oberyn said to his brother from the distance where they watched the whole spectacle, somewhat envious of how well Tywin's fate had fared, at this time, with no Elia and her children had occurred in what would become known as the carnage of Red Keep, so there was not yet the deep hatred that would be created by the death of a sister.
"It's not luck, he only has one man to match the strength of four," Ellaria commented with a dismissive tone, her favor for the Rock Lion was not the most amiable one could hope for. "He knew how to play his cards, he has capable men and that is what matters in the grand scheme of things," Doran said simply.
The three watched as Onno picked up a forged steel sword while Cakoqqo picked up a short sword, the unusual thing about the short sword was its peculiar smoky relief on the blade, "Valyrian steel," Doran said to himself, but as it was said aloud, both Ellaria and Oberyn heard it, though they didn't need to, because among the audience present several comments were saying the same thing.
Everyone watched intently as Onno and Cakoqqo raised both swords, only to strike them at the same time with mammoth force.
"CRACK!"
A loud noise came from the moment of the clash, and the forged steel sword that Onno was holding split in two. Those who had any Valyrian steel swords in their possession knew the power of one of those legendary blades, but the vast majority had never even seen a spoonful of the precious metal.
So the demonstration captivated them and left them in awe, "That is the power of a Valyrian Steel sword!" the voice of Valka was heard before all, as Onno discarded the broken sword and took another one that a servant gave him in its sheath. "But the power of our swords is better, they are more lethal, dangerous, and volatile!"
This time, Onno unsheathed the sword that had been offered to him, and the smoky detail on the blade could be seen again, only this one was not an ashen gray color, but a darker, more aggressive color—giving the impression that the details moved with a life of their own on the blade of the sword.
Onno and Cakoqqo clashed both swords again, and the result was revealing, there was no sword broken in two, no notches flying, but if someone were to look closely at the sword Cakoqqo held, they could see how fine cracks were made in it.
"CRACK!"
In the second round, you could see which one was better, because to everyone's surprise, Cakoqqo's sword broke, and abysmal silence fell over everyone. "So you see, Xandarian swords are better, and anyone can still get one of the four, good luck." Valka finished her speech, noticing how envy and longing were plastered on many's faces.