Golden Tyrant (Game of thrones/Asoiaf)

I stood before the doors to my father's chambers, my mind clear and my resolve unwavering. The past four months had been a whirlwind of progress and preparation, but now it was time to take the next step. I needed my own forces—men and women loyal to me, not just to the crown or to my father. Men and women who would follow me not out of duty, but out of belief in my vision.

I knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the hallway. A moment later, my father's gruff voice called out.

"Enter!"

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of wine and sweat. Robert sat at his desk, a goblet in one hand and a half-empty flagon of wine in the other. His face lit up when he saw me, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Eryx!" he bellowed, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "Come in, boy! Sit, sit. What brings you here?"

I closed the door behind me and took a seat across from him, my expression calm but serious. "Father, I've come to ask for a favor."

Robert raised an eyebrow, his grin fading slightly. "A favor, eh? What is it this time? More gold? More men? You've already got the run of the kingdom, boy. What more could you want?"

I leaned forward, my gaze steady. "I need your permission to gather my own forces. A personal guard, loyal to me and me alone."

Robert's expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he studied me. "Your own forces? What for? You've got the Kingsguard, the city watch, the whole bloody army at your disposal. Why do you need more?"

I didn't flinch under his scrutiny. "The Kingsguard serves the crown, and the city watch serves the city. I need men who serve *me*, who believe in what I'm trying to achieve. Men who will follow me without question, no matter where I lead them."

Robert leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. He took a long drink from his goblet, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're asking for a lot, boy. Men loyal to you and not the crown? That's a dangerous game you're playing."

I met his gaze without hesitation. "I'm not playing a game, Father. I'm building a future—for the kingdom, for our family, for the people. And I can't do that without men I can trust."

Robert was silent for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. Then, to my surprise, he let out a bark of laughter. "By the gods, boy, you've got balls, I'll give you that. Alright, fine. You've got my permission. But don't come crying to me if it all goes to hell."

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. "Thank you, Father. I won't let you down."

Robert waved a hand dismissively, his grin returning. "You'd better not. Now, get out of here. I've got a kingdom to neglect and a flagon to finish."

I rose to my feet and bowed slightly before turning to leave. As I reached the door, Robert's voice stopped me. "Eryx."

I turned back to face him. "Yes, Father?"

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "You're a good lad. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

I felt a flicker of warmth at his words, but I didn't let it show. "Thank you, Father."

As I walked through the halls of the Red Keep, my mind was already racing with plans. The people of King's Landing had come to see me as their savior, their hope for a better future. I had spent the past four months building that reputation, earning their trust and admiration. And now, it was time to use that trust to gather my forces.

I knew that true power lay in the people. They flocked to the capable, to those who could lead them to a brighter future. And I had proven myself capable. The reforms I had implemented, the laws I had passed, the improvements I had made—they had all been for the people. And the people had responded with loyalty and devotion.

Whoever tried to take the throne from me would face not just my armies, but the wrath of the people. They would rebel, they would fight, and they would die for me. Because I was their savior, their hope, their light.

========

The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays bathing the training yard in warm light. I stood shirtless in the center of the yard, my body glistening with sweat as I moved through a series of intricate sword forms. The blade in my hand was an extension of my will, its movements fluid and precise, a dance of steel and strength.

Around me, servants and guards had gathered, their eyes wide with awe as they watched me train. I could feel their admiration, their whispers of praise, but I paid them no mind. My focus was on the blade, on the flow of mana and muscle that made every strike perfect.

But then, I felt it—a familiar presence, one that made me pause mid-swing. I turned, my gaze landing on my younger siblings, Tommen and Myrcella, standing at the edge of the yard. Tommen's eyes were wide with excitement, while Myrcella's cheeks were flushed, her gaze flickering between my face and the sword in my hand.

I smiled, lowering the blade and walking over to them. "Tommen, Myrcella," I said, my voice warm. "What brings you here?"

Tommen grinned, his excitement barely contained. "We heard you were training, and we wanted to watch! That was amazing, Eryx! You're so fast!"

Myrcella nodded, her blush deepening as she averted her gaze. "You're incredible, Eryx. I've never seen anyone move like that."

I chuckled, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. "Thank you. I'm sorry for the sweat, though. I must look like a mess."

Myrcella shook her head quickly, her voice soft. "No, you don't. You look… impressive."

I raised an eyebrow, amused by her reaction, but I didn't comment on it. Instead, I turned to Tommen, who was practically bouncing on his feet. "And what about you, little brother? Did you enjoy the show?"

Tommen nodded eagerly. "I want to be like you, Eryx! I want to swing a sword like that!"

I laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Is that so? Well, I can teach you if you'd like."

Tommen's eyes lit up, his grin widening. "Really? You'd teach me?"

"Of course," I said, ruffling his hair. "But we'll start with the basics. No one becomes a master overnight."

I walked over to the rack of training swords and picked up a blunted blade, tossing it to Tommen. He caught it with both hands, his expression serious as he gripped the hilt. I took another blunted sword and stood in front of him, demonstrating the basic stance.

"Feet shoulder-width apart," I instructed, adjusting his posture with gentle hands. "Keep your knees slightly bent. Good. Now, hold the sword like this…"

As I guided Tommen through the basics, Myrcella watched from the sidelines, her expression a mix of admiration and something else I couldn't quite place. She was quiet, but her eyes never left me, and I could feel the warmth of her gaze.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Joffrey standing in the shadows, his arms crossed and his expression dark. He glared at me, his jealousy and resentment palpable, but I ignored him. He wasn't worth my attention, not when I had Tommen and Myrcella here, looking up to me with such trust and admiration.

Tommen was a quick learner, his enthusiasm making up for his lack of experience. I guided him through the basic strikes and parries, my voice patient and encouraging. "Good, Tommen. Keep your wrist straight. That's it. Now, step forward and strike."

He followed my instructions, his movements clumsy but determined. I couldn't help but smile at his effort. He reminded me of myself when I was younger—eager to learn, eager to prove himself.

"You're doing well," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "With practice, you'll be a fine swordsman."

Tommen beamed, his pride evident. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," I replied, my tone firm but kind. "But remember, it's not just about skill. It's about discipline, focus, and heart. A true warrior fights not just with his blade, but with his mind and spirit."

Tommen nodded, his expression serious. "I'll remember that, Eryx. Thank you."

Myrcella stepped forward, her voice soft but filled with admiration. "You're a wonderful teacher, Eryx. Tommen's lucky to have you."

I smiled at her, my gaze warm. "And I'm lucky to have both of you. You're my family, and I'll always be here for you."

As the lesson continued, I could feel Joffrey's glare burning into me from across the yard. He stood in the shadows, his arms crossed and his expression dark. He didn't say anything, but his jealousy and resentment were palpable.

I ignored him, focusing my attention on Tommen and Myrcella. They were my priority, my family. Joffrey could glare all he wanted; it wouldn't change anything.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the training yard, I sheathed my sword and placed a hand on Tommen's shoulder. "That's enough for today. You've done well, little brother."

Tommen grinned, his face flushed with exertion. "Thank you, Eryx. I'll practice every day, I promise!"

I chuckled, ruffling his hair. "I'm sure you will. And Myrcella," I added, turning to her, "thank you for watching. Your support means a lot."

Myrcella smiled, her blush returning. "Of course, Eryx. I'll always support you."

========

With my father's permission secured, I began to gather my forces. I sought out men and women who were skilled, loyal, and willing to follow me without question.

A week had passed since the announcement of my need for a personal army. The news had spread like wildfire, stirring controversy among the council and intrigue among the people. The council had opposed it, their voices filled with suspicion and fear. They accused me of plotting rebellion, of seeking to undermine the crown. But I had shut them down with ease, my words sharp and my logic unassailable.

"Anyone can rebel," I had said, my voice calm but firm.

"But rebellion is not my ambition. My ambition is the future—a future where the kingdom is prosperous, unified, and strong. Power is not maintained by clinging to it; it is maintained by striving for what lies ahead."

They had tried to argue, their words filled with petty concerns and narrow-mindedness. But I had over 2,000 years of experience, and their meager minds were no match for mine. In the end, they had no choice but to relent.

Now, I stood in the training yard, the sun high in the sky, facing the crowd of men and women who had come to join me. They were a diverse group—soldiers, knights, merchants, and commoners—all drawn by the promise of a better future. But I needed more than just bodies; I needed skill, cunning, strength, and tenacity.

I stepped forward, my gaze sweeping over the crowd. The yard fell silent, every eye fixed on me. I could feel their anticipation, their hope, their fear. This was my moment, and I intended to make it count.

"You have come here today because you believe in something greater than yourselves," I began, my voice carrying easily over the crowd. "You believe in a future where the kingdom is prosperous, where the people are united, and where justice and honor prevail. I share that belief. But let me be clear: I do not need cowards, nor do I need fools blinded by greed."

I paused, letting my words sink in. "What I need are men and women of skill, of cunning, of strength, and of unyielding tenacity. I need those who are willing to fight not for personal gain, but for the future of this kingdom. If you are afraid of failure, if you are unwilling to push yourselves to the limit, then leave now. But if you are ready to stand with me, to carve your name and the names of your descendants into the annals of history, then stay."

The crowd was silent, their expressions a mix of determination and apprehension. A few shuffled their feet, their resolve wavering, but most stood firm, their eyes filled with fire.

"I will choose only twenty-four of you," I continued. "Twenty-four men and women who will become the foundation of my army, the vanguard of a new era. The trials ahead will test your skills, your cunning, your strength, and your spirit. Only the best will survive. Only the best will earn the right to stand by my side."

I stepped back, my gaze sweeping over the crowd once more. "The choice is yours. Stay, and prove your worth. Or leave, and live a life of mediocrity. The future belongs to those who dare to seize it."

The trials began immediately. I had designed them to test not just physical strength, but skill, cunning, and adaptability. The first trial was a test of combat prowess—a series of sparring matches where I observed their techniques, their creativity, and their ability to think on their feet.

As I sparred with each candidate, I took note of their strengths and weaknesses. Most were competent, but unremarkable. A few, however, stood out. There was a wiry man with quick reflexes and a sharp mind, a burly woman with raw strength and unyielding determination, a cunning rogue who used deception and trickery to gain the upper hand, and a tenacious fighter who refused to back down no matter the odds.

These four individuals were different. They each embodied a trait that made them compatible with specialized Aura methods—speed, strength, cunning, and tenacity. I had initially planned to teach them a mass-produced, quick-to-learn technique, but these four were perfect for something more advanced. They had potential, and I intended to nurture it.

By the end of the day, only twenty-four remained. They stood before me, their faces streaked with sweat and dirt, but their eyes filled with pride and determination. They had proven themselves worthy, and I knew that they would become the backbone of my army.

I stepped forward, my gaze sweeping over the chosen few. "You have proven yourselves today," I said, my voice filled with pride. "You have shown skill, cunning, strength, and tenacity. You are the chosen, the ones who will stand by my side as we build a future worthy of the people's trust."

I paused, letting my words sink in. "But this is only the beginning. The trials you faced today were but a taste of what is to come. The road ahead will be long and fraught with danger, but I have no doubt that you will rise to the challenge. Together, we will forge a legacy that will endure for generations."

The chosen cheered, their voices filled with determination and hope. I felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing that I had found the men and women who would help me achieve my vision.

Before dismissing them, I made sure to reward their efforts. I handed each of the chosen a pouch of coins, their initial payment for passing the trials. "This is just the beginning," I told them. "Return here in three days, and your training will begin."

To those who had participated but not been chosen, I also gave compensation—enough to show my gratitude and ensure they left with a positive impression of me.

"You may not have been chosen today," I said,

"but your courage and effort have not gone unnoticed. Take this as a token of my appreciation."

The crowd murmured in surprise and gratitude, their respect for me growing. I knew that this act of kindness would spread through the city, further solidifying my reputation as a fair and generous leader.

=========

The next day, I made my way to the cabin that I had transformed into my personal training barrack. The space was now equipped with a furnace, an anvil, and all the tools I would need to create the weapon I had envisioned. A sword—a blade that would become an extension of my will, a symbol of my strength and purpose.

I had spent weeks preparing for this moment, gathering the materials I needed and ensuring that no one was aware of the true extent of my abilities. The creation of a **Mana Core**, a crystallized form of mana, was a secret I intended to keep to myself. In my past life, Mana Cores were rare, found only in magical beasts or deep within mana-rich caves. But after centuries of research and development, I had discovered a method to create them instantaneously. It was a technique that would revolutionize magic—if I ever chose to share it.

I decided to craft the sword first. A blade was more than just a weapon; it was an extension of the wielder's soul, a symbol of their will and strength. I had named it **"Maip"**—a name that meant *The Shadow of Death that kills with the cold wind*. It was a name that carried weight, a name that would inspire fear in my enemies and respect in my allies.

I began by drawing a complex magic circle on the floor of the cabin, using the blood of animals as the medium. The circle glowed faintly as I channeled mana into it, the air around me humming with energy. I placed the raw materials at the center of the circle—a mixture of rare metals, gemstones, and mana-infused herbs. Then, I began the process.

The magic circle activated, the materials within it dissolving into a swirling pool of light. I focused my will, shaping the mana into a dense, crystalline structure. The process was delicate, requiring absolute concentration, but I had done this countless times before. Slowly, the pool of light solidified, forming a small, glowing crystal—a Mana Core.

With the Mana Core complete, I turned my attention to forging the blade. I heated the metal in the furnace until it glowed white-hot, the flames reflecting in my eyes as I worked. I hammered the metal into shape, folding it repeatedly to remove impurities and increase its strength. Each strike of the hammer was deliberate, each fold a step closer to perfection.

The rhythmic clang of metal on metal filled the cabin, the sound echoing like a heartbeat. I poured my focus into every movement, every strike, shaping the blade with precision and care. The metal began to take form, its edges sharp and its spine strong. I could feel the mana within the metal resonating with my own, as if the blade was alive, waiting to be awakened.

Once the blade was formed, I quenched it in a mixture of water and mana-infused oils, the steam hissing as the metal cooled. The sudden temperature change locked the blade's structure, making it harder and more durable. I then polished the blade, its surface gleaming like a mirror, reflecting the flickering light of the furnace.

The hilt was next. I wrapped it in leather, the grip firm and comfortable, designed to fit my hand perfectly. The guard was simple yet elegant, its edges smooth and unadorned. This was not a weapon meant for show; it was a tool of precision and purpose.

Finally, I etched a series of runes along the blade, each one designed to enhance its ability to channel Aura. The runes glowed faintly as I carved them, their power seeping into the metal. The sword hummed faintly as I tested it, its edge sharp and its balance perfect. I held it in my hand, feeling its weight and power. It was a weapon worthy of a Swordmaster.

I named it **Maip**, and as I whispered the name, the blade seemed to resonate, as if acknowledging its purpose. The Shadow of Death that kills with the cold wind. It was a name that would be remembered.

As I stood in the cabin, Maip in my hand, I felt a sense of satisfaction. This sword was more than just a weapon; it was an extension of myself, an instrument of my will and power. The blade gleamed in the dim light, its surface reflecting the fire of the furnace and the cold determination in my eyes.

I sheathed Maip, the blade sliding into its scabbard with a soft hiss.