Chapter 104 101

"We begin the ceremony of honors!" announced the herald in a well-practiced voice.

The Great Hall had never held so many people. The chamber was built for five hundred, and there were only three hundred present, yet the hall looked packed regardless. High lords, loyal commanders, and valiant sers had all gathered here. The war was over, and the time had come to distribute rewards.

"First I wish to express my gratitude to all assembled here, for the extraordinary efforts each of you made in suppressing the rebellion." Praising men for genuine accomplishments costs me nothing, and it means a great deal to them. "Every one of you made his contribution to this struggle, and every one of you will receive a reward to match it."

"We begin with Ser Boros Stone, who bravely led his company during the battle of the Four Pass Valley and, upon encountering..." the herald continued with practiced feeling, describing each man's deeds so that everyone in the hall could properly appreciate them.

Ser Boros stepped forward, knelt, the master of ceremonies read out his feats and announced his rewards, the crowd gasped and applauded, the knight rose, gave his thanks, and returned to his place. The standard, tedious ceremony of honors, conducted with great pomp to gratify the egos of all present and give the end of the rebellion its proper festive character. I had attended similar ceremonies in King's Landing more than once, though on a considerably smaller scale, there had been no major conflicts during my time as Hand. The whole proceeding took only an hour luckily, for only the most distinguished were announced publicly; the rest would receive their rewards in private.

"Beyond all other honors, I have taken the liberty of singling out three that matter most to me. Without these three, I would not be standing here today." The crowd had guessed at their identities but paid no less attention for it. "Ser Symond Templeton, step forward!"

"Ser Symond has been a model of knighthood and nobility. He made a significant contribution to suppressing the rebellion, whether in men, resources, or wise counsel. Your deeds are great, and I am sincerely grateful for them. I would be honored to call you my friend." I extended my arm to him in a warrior's clasp.

"And I would be glad to call you mine,Lord Axel." He took it, and in his words I heard nothing but sincerity.

Waiting for the roar of the crowd to quiet somewhat, I said:

"On your knee, Ser Symond." He obeyed without hesitation. "I, Axel of House Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, hereby raise Ser Symond to be the Lord of Ninestars, a title to be inherited by his sons and grandsons, from this day until the end of time." The hall filled again with gasps and shouts of approval.

There was no other word for it but a dizzying rise. From a knightly house, the Templetons had leaped past the rank of vassal lord and become banner lords, the pinnacle of aristocratic hierarchy below Great lords and kings. Why did houses with the strength of banner lords so rarely receive that rank? The answer was simple: a house elevated to that standing became too powerful and could comfortably begin to ignore its Great lord. The examples of the Freys, the Boltons, the Hightowers, the Redwynes, the Tarlys, the Graftons, and a number of others were instructive. So no one was in any hurry to elevate anyone, preferring to reward through other means. My own thinking was different. If my descendant cannot hold the Vale, he does not deserve it.

"Ser Desmond Redfort requires no introduction. Every man here knows his deeds." The room nodded with appropriate wisdom. "You and your house did not abandon me in my hour of need and have stood by me throughout the entirety of my path. You are hereby granted the rank of vassal lord and the city of Gulltown, with all its attendant revenues, from this day until the end of time."

"It is an honor, my lord." Desmond was satisfied. His friend had done justice to his ambitions.

At first glance it might seem foolish to hand the Vale's principal port to the Redforts, but politics had its part to play here. The Redforts were one of the pillars of my authority and had made an enormous contribution to suppressing the rebellion. They expected an enormous reward accordingly. Yet Jasper's recklessness, which had nearly cost me my life, outweighed everything else in my eyes. A reward was necessary, but I had no desire to give it, and then Desmond Redfort came to mind: an ambitious man loyal to me personally. It all fit together neatly. He would become a lord, and the Redforts could not complain of injustice without making themselves look absurd.

"We come to the final honor. Lord Yohn Royce, step forward." My uncle came forward, and I could not keep the smile off my face.

"House Royce has been my foundation and has supported me since childhood. They did not do so out of self-interest or ambition, but simply because we are family. I spent a long time thinking of a worthy reward, tried to measure it in material terms, and arrived at a simple truth. Your love and your support are beyond price to me. You bore the brunt of this war, stormed the castles of rebels, and then, with unshakeable resolve, held your positions against King Stannis himself. The only thing I can give a house like Royce is a weapon worthy of its standing." At a signal, a page approached my uncle with a sword in hand, silently inviting him to draw it.

For the first few seconds my uncle stared at the sword in disbelief, and he was not alone. Those present looked on with the same expression. Valyrian swords were, above all else, a matter of profound status. No one gave such a sword away willingly, and no one sold one if they could help it. At last, making up his mind, my uncle drew the blade with a sharp pull. My former blade, Golden Wing, cleared its scabbard with a swift motion. The distinctive sound of magical steel rang out through the quiet of the Great Hall.

"I... I simply do not know what to say," my uncle admitted. "Thank you, my lord Arryn."

"Love for loyalty, honors for valor, and for betrayal, retribution," I said, quoting the old Númenóreans proverb of kings.

The Great Hall had never been so loud.