Chapter 57: ' IT WILL BE LEGENDARY!! '
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Chapter 57: ' IT WILL BE LEGENDARY!! '
POV: Denys Drumm;
Ironmen Camp, Bear Island.
About ten minutes after a maester started down a dangerous path...
"Come in and have a seat." Said Denys sitting at an opposite end of a crude wooden table barely assembled.
'So far so good.' Louis thought instinctively as he watched the menacing man and the two captains standing behind him.
'Thank you, my lord.
It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Drumm, I am Maester Louis, a maester in the service of House Mormont for twelve years.
Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Duncan Tallhart, have instructed me to come and deal with you noblemen to discuss a proposal between the two factions. A proposal that could save countless lives, my lord." Said Louis putting himself on the defensive and punctuating the title 'Maester' in a clear voice several times.
Lord Drumm was not at all impressed by those words, except for three in particular and they were: [Lord Duncan Tallhart].
The Maester took a seat on the wooden stump that served as his chair.
"So is it true that the legendary 'Bloody Snow' is in that camp...?
Tell me maester, did 'The Hero of the North' also take part in the fighting?" Lord Drumm asked in a calm tone.
"Yes, my lord.
Lord Duncan, or rather 'Bloody Snow', is the General-in-Chief of the Allied Army.
He led the troops during the last battle, Lord Drumm..." Lord Drumm expressed a slight frown upon hearing those words.
He also wanted to personally participate in the battle that took place about four hours ago, but he didn't have the chance...
Now more than ever, the Iron Fleet Admiral wanted to take the field to unleash his fury and bloodlust.
Louis visibly sweated as he saw the altered state of mind of the six foot four inches tall, solid body man wearing full steel armor worn from numerous signs of struggle.
"And what does General Bloody Snow propose, maester?" Drumm asked, returning his focus to the discussion.
"My Lord, I would like to point out that the words I am about to relay to you do not come from me...
They are exactly what the General wants me to report...
My oath as Maester of the citadel..." The trembling Louis was interrupted.
"I am waiting, Maester.
I have no time to waste..." Lord Drumm.
"...Y...Yes, my Lord...I beg your pardon, Lord Drumm.
General Bloody Snow would like to propose a duel, my lord.
A duel to the death between the two leaders of the armies...
Whoever prevails will be the victor in this battle..." Louis.
"A duel?
Does the eleven-year-old boy want to fight me?
Is that what your faction is proposing to me, Maester?" Lord Drumm asked with a smirk and a predatory look.
The Maester nearly stained his breeches in the presence of that murderous, bloodthirsty intent. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))
Now that he was there, Louis was beginning to think he wasn't the only one who had a crazy idea. That being in front of him was a master of combat and a killing machine. Not even Maege Mormont, 'The Bear Warrior' conveyed this much danger.
"Y...Yes, my lord.
A...a duel." Lord Drumm rose from his chair made of whalebone and began to make his way to a small table with a few cups and a silver wineskin, probably the spoils of some raid, for on one of the cups was the crest of House Redwine.
"Wine, maester? I have an excellent red from the Isle of Summer." Lord Drumm asked politely.
"I...I would not...
Yes, my lord. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality." At first, Louis wanted to refuse but then he thought that by refusing the 'kind' gesture, he might cause further offense.
Lord Drumm served the wine in two cups and returned to his seat, handing one of the cups to the sweaty, trembling homunculus.
Denys Drumm took a generous sip and then asked:
"Maester...
As the 'expert healer' of House Mormont, you must know the condition of the Northmen in that camp...
If you don't mind, could you tell us in detail how many of the wounded Mormont and Tallhart are?
How many of them can fight, and most importantly what is the exact number of enemy forces?" Lord Drumm asked amicably but still keeping a serious look on his face as he continued to quietly sip his cup.
"...My lord...I...I'm afraid I cannot answer that question...
I...as you well know...am in service..." Louis could not continue his sentence, three men in that tent had their eyes on him.
And those eyes were roaring: [Talk nicely or talk nastily. Your choice.]
The undaunted Maester Louis sipped the offered cup. Small sips at first, then due to the trembling of his hand he ended up swallowing the entire contents.
Visible bitter red stains appeared on the collar and chest of his grey tunic.
The taste of the wine was sweet and refreshing, but it was not enough to extinguish the fire that was draining the poor man's throat.
After a few seconds, Louis confessed every detail.
"At the start of the battle, the Allied forces, excluding the commanders-in-chief were 611 Mormont soldiers and 350 Tallhart, my lord...
After the two recent battles, we lost 73 warriors and house Tallhart...4, my lord...
I currently believe....that about 520 Mormont and 346 Tallhart can still fight, my lord..." Louis.
Denys didn't like that answer at all...
"You dare to lie to me, maester?
Do you think I can believe that in a battle to the death, where 1,500 brave ironmen lost their lives, my rival forces lost only those paltry numbers?!" Denys was tempted to decapitate the lousy coward right there on the spot, but he managed to keep calm enough not to.
Did your men by any chance kill any innocent islanders before coming to this camp?
If the answer is yes, my lord... then I would need to know the number... the exact number if possible." Louis asked to tremble.
The maester, had finally come to the most delicate part of the speech.
"...I don't know the exact number.
At least 400 maybe even 500.
Why do you ask?" Denys.
The maester pulled a scroll out of his sleeve and began to read it.
"...
For should Bloody Snow prevail, my lord,
and here I quote his exact words again.
[I will execute and torture 400-500 of your men.
I will castrate another 400-500 of your men and make them work for as long as it takes in my mines, to repay the damage done to this island.
Finally, I will make the last 400-500 men take black and if they refuse this opportunity of redemption, I will chop off both their hands and feet leaving them free with their ' favorite tool' still intact.
The remaining men will be able to return to the Iron Islands safely with the ships that will be used to transport the bodies of their dead comrades.
I sincerely hope that the deaths do not exceed 700, Lord Drumm, or the fate of your house will be etched in marble and the history books of the North...
I would appreciate it, if possible if you would already select the men responsible for the probable massacre you have left behind.
You would save us time and effort, and your men unnecessary suffering]..." Maester Louis finished saying, handing over the written, stamped, and signed message that listed the exact words he had just spoken.
Denys looked at the message for a brief moment....
Then he began to laugh.
"Ahahahahahah!
The kid's got guts I'll give him that! ahahahahahah...
I haven't felt so alive since my first raid...
I can't wait to meet this infamous 'Bloody Snow!' in person...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
However things go, this duel is already written in history!!!
I finally meet someone really worth killing!!! AHAHAHAHAH!!
YES, IT WILL BE!
'DENYS THE BLOODTHIRSTY' VS 'BLOODY SNOW', IN A DUEL TO THE LAST 'BLOOD'!!! HAHAHA, SOUNDS GOOD!
OUR FIGHT WILL BE LEGENDARY!!!! AHAHAHAH!!!!" Denys roars with laughter.
His rational and logical side was put aside and the one that made him nicknamed 'Bloody Denys' erupted out, giving him adrenaline and endorphins all over his body.
Denys couldn't wait to fight.
Maester Louis decided it was time to take his leave, his work was done.
"My Lord, then I will go and report your answer to the camp.
Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Drumm." Louis.
"What?... you're right, the answer.
Maester, may I ask you a professional question?" Denys.
"Su... Sure, my lord.
I'll be happy to answer it." the maester.
"Are you a skilled healer?
An expert in the field?" Denys.
"I am, my lord.
I have forged three rings in three different fields of the healing area, my lord. I could say I am among the top twenty healers in the Kingdom, Lord Drumm." Said the maester, trying to raise his value to the most reasonable.
"Among the best...
Then I fear, maester, you are going nowhere." Denys.
"My lord?
I... I must deliver the message... what do you mean my lord?
Does anyone in the camp need my services by any chance?" Louis.
"As a matter of fact yes, maester...
My men have suffered so much these past two days and lost so many comrades, without having much chance to hit their enemy...
As you said yourself, Maester, you are one of the top twenty in all of Westeros.
Whether I win or lose, I cannot leave my enemies such a resource...
I hope you understand me, maester..." Said Denys giving a warm disturbing murderous smile.
"... my Lord... NO! I AM NOT! THERE ARE MANY BETTER HEALERS THAN ME IN THAT FIELD!
YOU WOULDN'T ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING BY HURTING ME!
PLEASE, MERCY!!...Sigh...
Sigh...sigh...Please, my lord, mercy! Mercy!
No! Please leave me! NOOOO!!!" The two captains dragged the screaming maester out of the tent.
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Chapter 57: ' IT WILL BE LEGENDARY!! '
POV: Denys Drumm;
Ironmen Camp, Bear Island.
About ten minutes after a maester started down a dangerous path...
"Come in and have a seat." Said Denys sitting at an opposite end of a crude wooden table barely assembled.
'So far so good.' Louis thought instinctively as he watched the menacing man and the two captains standing behind him.
'Thank you, my lord.
It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Drumm, I am Maester Louis, a maester in the service of House Mormont for twelve years.
Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Duncan Tallhart, have instructed me to come and deal with you noblemen to discuss a proposal between the two factions. A proposal that could save countless lives, my lord." Said Louis putting himself on the defensive and punctuating the title 'Maester' in a clear voice several times.
Lord Drumm was not at all impressed by those words, except for three in particular and they were: [Lord Duncan Tallhart].
The Maester took a seat on the wooden stump that served as his chair.
"So is it true that the legendary 'Bloody Snow' is in that camp...?
Tell me maester, did 'The Hero of the North' also take part in the fighting?" Lord Drumm asked in a calm tone.
"Yes, my lord.
Lord Duncan, or rather 'Bloody Snow', is the General-in-Chief of the Allied Army.
He led the troops during the last battle, Lord Drumm..." Lord Drumm expressed a slight frown upon hearing those words.
He also wanted to personally participate in the battle that took place about four hours ago, but he didn't have the chance...
Now more than ever, the Iron Fleet Admiral wanted to take the field to unleash his fury and bloodlust.
Louis visibly sweated as he saw the altered state of mind of the six foot four inches tall, solid body man wearing full steel armor worn from numerous signs of struggle.
"And what does General Bloody Snow propose, maester?" Drumm asked, returning his focus to the discussion.
"My Lord, I would like to point out that the words I am about to relay to you do not come from me...
They are exactly what the General wants me to report...
My oath as Maester of the citadel..." The trembling Louis was interrupted.
"I am waiting, Maester.
I have no time to waste..." Lord Drumm.
"...Y...Yes, my Lord...I beg your pardon, Lord Drumm.
General Bloody Snow would like to propose a duel, my lord.
A duel to the death between the two leaders of the armies...
Whoever prevails will be the victor in this battle..." Louis.
"A duel?
Does the eleven-year-old boy want to fight me?
Is that what your faction is proposing to me, Maester?" Lord Drumm asked with a smirk and a predatory look.
The Maester nearly stained his breeches in the presence of that murderous, bloodthirsty intent. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))
Now that he was there, Louis was beginning to think he wasn't the only one who had a crazy idea. That being in front of him was a master of combat and a killing machine. Not even Maege Mormont, 'The Bear Warrior' conveyed this much danger.
"Y...Yes, my lord.
A...a duel." Lord Drumm rose from his chair made of whalebone and began to make his way to a small table with a few cups and a silver wineskin, probably the spoils of some raid, for on one of the cups was the crest of House Redwine.
"Wine, maester? I have an excellent red from the Isle of Summer." Lord Drumm asked politely.
"I...I would not...
Yes, my lord. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality." At first, Louis wanted to refuse but then he thought that by refusing the 'kind' gesture, he might cause further offense.
Lord Drumm served the wine in two cups and returned to his seat, handing one of the cups to the sweaty, trembling homunculus.
Denys Drumm took a generous sip and then asked:
"Maester...
As the 'expert healer' of House Mormont, you must know the condition of the Northmen in that camp...
If you don't mind, could you tell us in detail how many of the wounded Mormont and Tallhart are?
How many of them can fight, and most importantly what is the exact number of enemy forces?" Lord Drumm asked amicably but still keeping a serious look on his face as he continued to quietly sip his cup.
"...My lord...I...I'm afraid I cannot answer that question...
I...as you well know...am in service..." Louis could not continue his sentence, three men in that tent had their eyes on him.
And those eyes were roaring: [Talk nicely or talk nastily. Your choice.]
The undaunted Maester Louis sipped the offered cup. Small sips at first, then due to the trembling of his hand he ended up swallowing the entire contents.
Visible bitter red stains appeared on the collar and chest of his grey tunic.
The taste of the wine was sweet and refreshing, but it was not enough to extinguish the fire that was draining the poor man's throat.
After a few seconds, Louis confessed every detail.
"At the start of the battle, the Allied forces, excluding the commanders-in-chief were 611 Mormont soldiers and 350 Tallhart, my lord...
After the two recent battles, we lost 73 warriors and house Tallhart...4, my lord...
I currently believe....that about 520 Mormont and 346 Tallhart can still fight, my lord..." Louis.
Denys didn't like that answer at all...
"You dare to lie to me, maester?
Do you think I can believe that in a battle to the death, where 1,500 brave ironmen lost their lives, my rival forces lost only those paltry numbers?!" Denys was tempted to decapitate the lousy coward right there on the spot, but he managed to keep calm enough not to.
Did your men by any chance kill any innocent islanders before coming to this camp?
If the answer is yes, my lord... then I would need to know the number... the exact number if possible." Louis asked to tremble.
The maester, had finally come to the most delicate part of the speech.
"...I don't know the exact number.
At least 400 maybe even 500.
Why do you ask?" Denys.
The maester pulled a scroll out of his sleeve and began to read it.
"...
For should Bloody Snow prevail, my lord,
and here I quote his exact words again.
[I will execute and torture 400-500 of your men.
I will castrate another 400-500 of your men and make them work for as long as it takes in my mines, to repay the damage done to this island.
Finally, I will make the last 400-500 men take black and if they refuse this opportunity of redemption, I will chop off both their hands and feet leaving them free with their ' favorite tool' still intact.
The remaining men will be able to return to the Iron Islands safely with the ships that will be used to transport the bodies of their dead comrades.
I sincerely hope that the deaths do not exceed 700, Lord Drumm, or the fate of your house will be etched in marble and the history books of the North...
I would appreciate it, if possible if you would already select the men responsible for the probable massacre you have left behind.
You would save us time and effort, and your men unnecessary suffering]..." Maester Louis finished saying, handing over the written, stamped, and signed message that listed the exact words he had just spoken.
Denys looked at the message for a brief moment....
Then he began to laugh.
"Ahahahahahah!
The kid's got guts I'll give him that! ahahahahahah...
I haven't felt so alive since my first raid...
I can't wait to meet this infamous 'Bloody Snow!' in person...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
However things go, this duel is already written in history!!!
I finally meet someone really worth killing!!! AHAHAHAHAH!!
YES, IT WILL BE!
'DENYS THE BLOODTHIRSTY' VS 'BLOODY SNOW', IN A DUEL TO THE LAST 'BLOOD'!!! HAHAHA, SOUNDS GOOD!
OUR FIGHT WILL BE LEGENDARY!!!! AHAHAHAH!!!!" Denys roars with laughter.
His rational and logical side was put aside and the one that made him nicknamed 'Bloody Denys' erupted out, giving him adrenaline and endorphins all over his body.
Denys couldn't wait to fight.
Maester Louis decided it was time to take his leave, his work was done.
"My Lord, then I will go and report your answer to the camp.
Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Drumm." Louis.
"What?... you're right, the answer.
Maester, may I ask you a professional question?" Denys.
"Su... Sure, my lord.
I'll be happy to answer it." the maester.
"Are you a skilled healer?
An expert in the field?" Denys.
"I am, my lord.
I have forged three rings in three different fields of the healing area, my lord. I could say I am among the top twenty healers in the Kingdom, Lord Drumm." Said the maester, trying to raise his value to the most reasonable.
"Among the best...
Then I fear, maester, you are going nowhere." Denys.
"My lord?
I... I must deliver the message... what do you mean my lord?
Does anyone in the camp need my services by any chance?" Louis.
"As a matter of fact yes, maester...
My men have suffered so much these past two days and lost so many comrades, without having much chance to hit their enemy...
As you said yourself, Maester, you are one of the top twenty in all of Westeros.
Whether I win or lose, I cannot leave my enemies such a resource...
I hope you understand me, maester..." Said Denys giving a warm disturbing murderous smile.
"... my Lord... NO! I AM NOT! THERE ARE MANY BETTER HEALERS THAN ME IN THAT FIELD!
YOU WOULDN'T ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING BY HURTING ME!
PLEASE, MERCY!!...Sigh...
Sigh...sigh...Please, my lord, mercy! Mercy!
No! Please leave me! NOOOO!!!" The two captains dragged the screaming maester out of the tent.
Chapter 57: ' IT WILL BE LEGENDARY!! 'POV: Denys Drumm; Ironmen Camp, Bear Island. About ten minutes after a maester started down a dangerous path... "Come in and have a seat." Said Denys sitting at an opposite end of a crude wooden table barely assembled. 'So far so good.' Louis thought instinctively as he watched the menacing man and the two captains standing behind him. 'Thank you, my lord. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Drumm, I am Maester Louis, a maester in the service of House Mormont for twelve years. Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Duncan Tallhart, have instructed me to come and deal with you noblemen to discuss a proposal between the two factions. A proposal that could save countless lives, my lord." Said Louis putting himself on the defensive and punctuating the title 'Maester' in a clear voice several times. Lord Drumm was not at all impressed by those words, except for three in particular and they were: Lord Duncan Tallhart. The Maester took a seat on the wooden stump that served as his chair. "So is it true that the legendary 'Bloody Snow' is in that camp...? Tell me maester, did 'The Hero of the North' also take part in the fighting?" Lord Drumm asked in a calm tone. "Yes, my lord. Lord Duncan, or rather 'Bloody Snow', is the General-in-Chief of the Allied Army. He led the troops during the last battle, Lord Drumm..." Lord Drumm expressed a slight frown upon hearing those words. He also wanted to personally participate in the battle that took place about four hours ago, but he didn't have the chance... Now more than ever, the Iron Fleet Admiral wanted to take the field to unleash his fury and bloodlust. Louis visibly sweated as he saw the altered state of mind of the six foot four inches tall, solid body man wearing full steel armor worn from numerous signs of struggle. "And what does General Bloody Snow propose, maester?" Drumm asked, returning his focus to the discussion. "My Lord, I would like to point out that the words I am about to relay to you do not come from me... They are exactly what the General wants me to report... My oath as Maester of the citadel..." The trembling Louis was interrupted. "I am waiting, Maester. I have no time to waste..." Lord Drumm. "...Y...Yes, my Lord...I beg your pardon, Lord Drumm. General Bloody Snow would like to propose a duel, my lord. A duel to the death between the two leaders of the armies... Whoever prevails will be the victor in this battle..." Louis. "A duel? Does the eleven-year-old boy want to fight me? Is that what your faction is proposing to me, Maester?" Lord Drumm asked with a smirk and a predatory look. The Maester nearly stained his breeches in the presence of that murderous, bloodthirsty intent. The source of this content novelbinNow that he was there, Louis was beginning to think he wasn't the only one who had a crazy idea. That being in front of him was a master of combat and a killing machine. Not even Maege Mormont, 'The Bear Warrior' conveyed this much danger. "Y...Yes, my lord. A...a duel." Lord Drumm rose from his chair made of whalebone and began to make his way to a small table with a few cups and a silver wineskin, probably the spoils of some raid, for on one of the cups was the crest of House Redwine. "Wine, maester? I have an excellent red from the Isle of Summer." Lord Drumm asked politely. "I...I would not... Yes, my lord. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality." At first, Louis wanted to refuse but then he thought that by refusing the 'kind' gesture, he might cause further offense. Lord Drumm served the wine in two cups and returned to his seat, handing one of the cups to the sweaty, trembling homunculus. Denys Drumm took a generous sip and then asked: "Maester... As the 'expert healer' of House Mormont, you must know the condition of the Northmen in that camp... If you don't mind, could you tell us in detail how many of the wounded Mormont and Tallhart are? How many of them can fight, and most importantly what is the exact number of enemy forces?" Lord Drumm asked amicably but still keeping a serious look on his face as he continued to quietly sip his cup. "...My lord...I...I'm afraid I cannot answer that question... I...as you well know...am in service..." Louis could not continue his sentence, three men in that tent had their eyes on him. And those eyes were roaring: Talk nicely or talk nastily. Your choice. The undaunted Maester Louis sipped the offered cup. Small sips at first, then due to the trembling of his hand he ended up swallowing the entire contents. Visible bitter red stains appeared on the collar and chest of his grey tunic. The taste of the wine was sweet and refreshing, but it was not enough to extinguish the fire that was draining the poor man's throat. After a few seconds, Louis confessed every detail. "At the start of the battle, the Allied forces, excluding the commanders-in-chief were 611 Mormont soldiers and 350 Tallhart, my lord... After the two recent battles, we lost 73 warriors and house Tallhart...4, my lord... I currently believe....that about 520 Mormont and 346 Tallhart can still fight, my lord..." Louis. Denys didn't like that answer at all... "You dare to lie to me, maester? Do you think I can believe that in a battle to the death, where 1,500 brave ironmen lost their lives, my rival forces lost only those paltry numbers?!" Denys was tempted to decapitate the lousy coward right there on the spot, but he managed to keep calm enough not to. Did your men by any chance kill any innocent islanders before coming to this camp? If the answer is yes, my lord... then I would need to know the number... the exact number if possible." Louis asked to tremble. The maester, had finally come to the most delicate part of the speech. "...I don't know the exact number. At least 400 maybe even 500. Why do you ask?" Denys. The maester pulled a scroll out of his sleeve and began to read it. "... For should Bloody Snow prevail, my lord, and here I quote his exact words again. I will execute and torture 400-500 of your men. I will castrate another 400-500 of your men and make them work for as long as it takes in my mines, to repay the damage done to this island. Finally, I will make the last 400-500 men take black and if they refuse this opportunity of redemption, I will chop off both their hands and feet leaving them free with their ' favorite tool' still intact. The remaining men will be able to return to the Iron Islands safely with the ships that will be used to transport the bodies of their dead comrades. I sincerely hope that the deaths do not exceed 700, Lord Drumm, or the fate of your house will be etched in marble and the history books of the North... I would appreciate it, if possible if you would already select the men responsible for the probable massacre you have left behind. You would save us time and effort, and your men unnecessary suffering..." Maester Louis finished saying, handing over the written, stamped, and signed message that listed the exact words he had just spoken. Denys looked at the message for a brief moment.... Then he began to laugh. "Ahahahahahah! The kid's got guts I'll give him that! ahahahahahah... I haven't felt so alive since my first raid... I can't wait to meet this infamous 'Bloody Snow!' in person... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! However things go, this duel is already written in history!!! I finally meet someone really worth killing!!! AHAHAHAHAH!! YES, IT WILL BE! 'DENYS THE BLOODTHIRSTY' VS 'BLOODY SNOW', IN A DUEL TO THE LAST 'BLOOD'!!! HAHAHA, SOUNDS GOOD! OUR FIGHT WILL BE LEGENDARY!!!! AHAHAHAH!!!!" Denys roars with laughter. His rational and logical side was put aside and the one that made him nicknamed 'Bloody Denys' erupted out, giving him adrenaline and endorphins all over his body. Denys couldn't wait to fight. Maester Louis decided it was time to take his leave, his work was done. "My Lord, then I will go and report your answer to the camp. Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Drumm." Louis. "What?... you're right, the answer. Maester, may I ask you a professional question?" Denys. "Su... Sure, my lord. I'll be happy to answer it." the maester. "Are you a skilled healer? An expert in the field?" Denys. "I am, my lord. I have forged three rings in three different fields of the healing area, my lord. I could say I am among the top twenty healers in the Kingdom, Lord Drumm." Said the maester, trying to raise his value to the most reasonable. "Among the best... Then I fear, maester, you are going nowhere." Denys. "My lord? I... I must deliver the message... what do you mean my lord? Does anyone in the camp need my services by any chance?" Louis. "As a matter of fact yes, maester... My men have suffered so much these past two days and lost so many comrades, without having much chance to hit their enemy... As you said yourself, Maester, you are one of the top twenty in all of Westeros. Whether I win or lose, I cannot leave my enemies such a resource... I hope you understand me, maester..." Said Denys giving a warm disturbing murderous smile. "... my Lord... NO! I AM NOT! THERE ARE MANY BETTER HEALERS THAN ME IN THAT FIELD! YOU WOULDN'T ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING BY HURTING ME! PLEASE, MERCY!!...Sigh... Sigh...sigh...Please, my lord, mercy! Mercy! No! Please leave me! NOOOO!!!" The two captains dragged the screaming maester out of the tent.
