NOVEL NEXT Chapter 37: Surrender!
The air crackled with anticipation as Damian led the way, his steps sure and purposeful, a beacon of determination amidst the chaos. His companions followed suit, a formidable force marching in unison. Their swords gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the steel of their wills.
Down they descended, their descent reminiscent of a mighty river cascading down a jagged mountainside. The castle gates, previously sealed shut, awaited their unlocking.
As they approached the imposing gates, the clatter of armour echoed in their ears, harmonizing with the distant cries of battle. The air seemed thick with anticipation, pregnant with the promise of victory.
Damian soldiers and knights cut down anyone that tried to stop them. In fact, after giving himself a buff of strength, Damian was able to fight better than his men as he did not feel any tiredness from the previous battle. Knowing that they have lost, some of the Ironborn stopped defending the gates and ran to hide inside the castle before the army waiting outside was let in.
Damian's hand grasped the iron latch, fingers closing around its cold, unforgiving metal. With a firm tug, he pulled it open, the gates groaning in protest as they swung wide.
It was a triumphant moment, one that would be etched into the annals of history. The pathway lay open, beckoning like a welcoming embrace. Through those gates would pour the combined strength of the North.
With the gates unlocked Damian turned to his companions, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. Together, they had earned a great merit, and shattered the barrier of their enemy's defence.
As the Northern army surged through the opened gates, the defenders of Blacktyde Castle found themselves overwhelmed by the ferocity and sheer might of their assailants. The battle that had once raged with desperation now waned, the resolve of the Blacktyde soldiers gradually faltering in the face of an unstoppable force.
One by one, they laid down their weapons, the clatter of surrender mingling with the echoes of defeat. The once proud and defiant Ironborn soldiers, wearied by the relentless assault, now submitted to the inevitable. Their swords were sheathed, their banners lowered, and the fortress they had fiercely guarded was lost to the might of the Greenlanders.
In the aftermath, the castellan of Blacktyde Castle, a stoic figure in the face of adversity, approached Ser Wylis Manderly. With a mixture of resignation and deference, he bowed his head in surrender. His words were measured, their weight heavy with the realization that resistance had proven futile.
"Ser Wylis Manderly, I yield to the might of the Northern army. The Blacktyde family acknowledges our defeat and offers no further resistance. We humbly submit to your authority."
As the castellan spoke, the weight of defeat seemed to settle upon the castle walls, seeping into the very stones that had witnessed generations of Blacktyde heritage.
With the surrender came the swift implementation of control. The Blacktyde family members, including the young heir, who was eight years old, were taken hostage. Their fate now rested in the hands of their captors, a grim reminder of the consequences that awaited those who dared to oppose the might of the North.
The siege of Blacktyde Castle had come to a close, but the echoes of its surrender reverberated throughout the land.
Victory belonged to Damian, his men and his fellow northerners. They stood tall, their swords stained with the blood of their fallen enemies. The sound of cheering erupted from their ranks, mingling with the distant thunder, as they celebrated their hard-fought triumph.
As the night settled upon Blacktyde Castle, a newfound air of celebration filled the once somber halls. The victorious Northern army, weary from the day's battles, gathered together to revel in their hard-fought triumph. The clinking of goblets and the hearty laughter of comrades-in-arms filled the air, replacing the echoes of conflict with the melodies of joy.
At the center of the festivities stood Damian Stark. Ser Wylis Manderly, who taught Damian sword fighting, raised his cup high in tribute to the young warrior. "To Damian Stark, whose sword struck true and whose bravery inspired us all! May his name echo through the halls of history!"
The gathered company, including Lady Maege Mormont, a formidable leader in her own right, and Ser Wendel Manderly, joined in the praise. They clinked their cups together, their voices merging in a chorus of admiration.
"Damian Stark, a beacon of strength amidst the storm of battle! Your unwavering resolve and unmatched skill have brought us victory this day. We salute your bravery!" declared Lady Maege, her eyes gleaming with pride.
Ser Ormond Mallister, a seasoned veteran, added his voice to the chorus. "Damian Stark, you have proven yourself a true warrior of the North and the Seven Kingdom. Your triumph today as well as by winning Lonely Light is a testament to your skill and leadership. The gods themselves must smile upon you."
Damian, his face adorned with a humble smile, raised his own goblet in acknowledgement. "I am honoured by your kind words, my noble warriors. But it is through the collective strength and unwavering dedication of all who fought alongside me that this victory against the Ironborn was achieved. We stand united, as one, in the face of adversity."
The feast continued late into the night, tales of valour and sacrifice interwoven with the clatter of cutlery and the merriment of comrades. The triumph of Blacktyde Castle became a celebration of the indomitable spirit that bound the Northern army together.
In the flickering glow of torches, the Northern army paid homage to their fallen enemies and celebrated their hard-won victory. And in the heart of Damian Stark, a flame burned brightly, fueled by the recognition and respect bestowed upon him by his fellow warriors. He has made his mark as a warrior in this battle.
. . .
The next morning, Damian awoke to find a beautiful woman leisurely sucking his cock.
"Good morning," she purred.
Damian groaned, reaching out to stroke a hand through her silky hair.
"It definitely is a good morning," Damian remarked with a satisfied smile, his eyes twinkling with contentment.
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