The Mountain of Ice and Fire

In the great training yard, three hundred new recruits were lined up in perfect order.

Chosen from approximately three thousand men, both the Mountain and Earl Gavin were pleased with the overall quality of this contingent.

Three groups stood before the Mountain.

In the center was the new recruits’ group of three hundred, to the left was the Clegane cavalry unit of one hundred and four, and to the right were the Crag garrison and guards, totaling one hundred and eighty.

The total number of soldiers was five hundred and eighty-four. Centurions, generals, and knights stood separately.

The Mountain said, “Clegane’s temporary cavalry captain, Chiswyck, step forward.”

Chiswyck stepped out, his head particularly large, a fearsome scar across his forehead, his appearance fierce, and his gaze like an awl.

“Kneel!”

Chiswyck knelt on one knee with a whoosh, head raised, staring at Lord Mountain.

He didn't know what was happening.

The Mountain abruptly drew his greatsword. The greatsword unsheathed was two meters long, the length of a throwing spear, twice the width of a two-handed sword, and weighed dozens of pounds. The Mountain held the sword in one hand, effortlessly.

“Father, please ask Maester Aysa to assist!” the Mountain said.

So, Maester Aysa walked out from beside Earl Gavin.

“Chiswyck, you led your seventeen brothers and swept through twenty castles overnight, capturing twenty-seven knights as prisoners, helping House Westerling reclaim their lost lands, rendering great service. I now knight you. Please follow Maester Aysa to swear the knight’s oath.”

“…Yes… Ser Gregor,” Chiswyck said, overjoyed, stuttering slightly.

So, led by Maester Aysa, Chiswyck loudly repeated the long knight’s oath.

Among the five hundred soldiers, countless people envied Chiswyck's knighthood. From then on, he was no longer a commoner, entering the noble class that ordinary people dreamed of.

The Mountain's greatsword tapped Chiswyck's shoulder, and he said in a singing voice, “Chiswyck, today, in House Westerling’s Crag, in the presence of dozens of lords and knights, witnessed by more than five hundred soldiers, I, Gregor Clegane, formally knight you and grant you the Clegane name. From this moment on, you are Ser Chiswyck Clegane.”

Chiswyck trembled with excitement!

A street thug, fighting to the death for a mouthful of food since childhood, even after founding a mercenary band and becoming its leader, was still looked down upon by nobles and deeply despised by knights. But—today was different. He had bid farewell to his former self. He was no longer a commoner. In the presence of dozens of lords and knights, led by the maester, he loudly swore the knight's oath, becoming an incomparably glorious knight.

Knighthood can only be bestowed, not inherited.

Only the most outstanding, brave, and virtuous people have the opportunity to be knighted.

This is an affirmation of a warrior. A glory worth sacrificing one's life to uphold.

“Arise, Ser Chiswyck Clegane. From this moment on, you are a member of House Clegane. From now on, you are my family and brother. No matter how cold the winter, there will always be a place for you by my hearth; no matter how dry the summer, there will always be a scoop of water for you at my well.”

Chiswyck stood up, his face radiant, his eyes bright and sparkling, immensely excited.

“Lord Gregor, I am grateful that you have made me a member of House Clegane. Chiswyck vows to follow you to the death, never changing. When necessary, it is my honor to offer my life for you.”

A knight's honor locked in Chiswyck's lifelong loyalty!

“Good, embrace your brothers!” the Mountain said, “Ser Rafford Clegane.”

Sweetmouth Raff stepped forward and embraced Chiswyck tightly.

“Ser Dunsan Clegane.”

Dunsan stepped forward and punched Chiswyck on the shoulder with a thud. Chiswyck returned a punch, and the two grabbed each other's hands, pulling hard, shoulders colliding with a thump.

“Ser Polliver Clegane.”

Polliver stepped out, his right cheek twitching, a nervous smile on his lips. Chiswyck was much shorter than him. He reached out and tapped Chiswyck's large head, which made Chiswyck's brothers sweat. Chiswyck glared at Polliver, and slowly a smile bloomed on his face, like the petals of a flower unfolding.

He wasn't angry at all. In fact, he was extremely happy.

Polliver laughed loudly and lifted Chiswyck up, saying, “Brother, congratulations on becoming a member of House Clegane. You are worthy to wear the Clegane hound sigil.”

“Julie Clegane!”

Julie Clegane walked out: “Uncle, congratulations on becoming a member of House Clegane.”

Chiswyck opened his mouth wide, stunned, his face slightly ashamed, and said, “Julie, Uncle didn't know Lord Gregor would knight me today. I haven't prepared any gifts for the only daughter of our House Clegane.”

“Uncle, if anyone bullies the daughter of House Clegane in the future, I hope Uncle can help me. That’s the gift I want most.”

“Uncle will definitely kill him!” Chiswyck said. He drew his short knife and slashed his palm, blood flowing out, “I swear on my blood, if Julie, the daughter of House Clegane, is bullied, I will avenge her. Those who speak lightly will be beaten, those who are serious will be beheaded.”

“Good!” Chiswyck’s seventeen bandit brothers shouted in unison.

Maester Aysa forcibly endured. These people were too bandit-like, their cultivation crude. He really couldn't stand it.

Julie Clegane threw herself into Chiswyck's arms and kissed Chiswyck's big head, causing Chiswyck's bandit brothers to laugh.

From then on, the Mountain's House Clegane gained another member. There were now four knights under his command: Sweetmouth Raff, Executioner Dunsan, Neurotic Polliver, and Big-Headed Chiswyck.

The Mountain also planned to promote a total of six people to knighthood based on their merits: Mark the scribe; Weapons Master Tob Mott; blacksmith apprentice Gendry; loyal youth Foulmouth; Crag heir Raynald Westerling; and foster daughter Julie Clegane.

The Mountain had Chiswyck and Julie return to the ranks and said, “Ser Chiswyck.”

“Yes, Lord Gregor,” Chiswyck unknowingly changed some of his unruly banditry. Since arriving at the Crag, he no longer directly called the Mountain by the name 'Mountain,' but changed it to Lord Gregor.

The prestigious battle of fame, fighting two hundred miles at night and capturing twenty-seven knights, except for Lord Mountain, no one could lead Chiswyck to do this. His arrogance and bandit bloodthirst were finally erased in front of the Mountain. Respect and admiration arose spontaneously.

Compared to the Mountain, Chiswyck considered himself a hill on the plain, while the Mountain was a peak in the mountains.

“Tomorrow morning, you leave Foulmouth behind and lead your sixteen brothers back to Lannisport to form a mercenary band of a thousand men.”

“Yes, Lord Gregor!”

“Your old subordinates, those brothers who are pirates in the sea, find them and recruit them. If they are willing to join the Lannisport navy, let them join. If they are unwilling to join, incorporate them.”

“Yes, Lord Gregor.”

“Ser Rafford, Ser Dunsan.”

“Yes, Lord Gregor.”

“Tomorrow morning, you will lead the Clegane cavalry, departing from the Crag. I will give you the military order that Lord Tywin wrote to me. You will go to the dungeons of the various nobles in the Westerlands to recruit soldiers. Our Clegane cavalry is still four hundred and fourteen men short of what Lord Tywin requires. I will give you a month to return to Clegane territory with a cavalry force of no less than five hundred men. You can get seven new cavalrymen in the dungeons of the Crag. Take more on the road. On the way, as the number of soldiers increases, borrow some horses from other nobles.”

“Yes, Lord Gregor.”

“Do not go to the territory of House Marbrand of the Ring to recruit soldiers. Do not linger when passing through Marbrand territory. Be extra careful and remember not to provoke trouble actively.”

“Yes, Lord Gregor!”

“Captain Raynald Westerling.”

“Here, Ser Gregor.”

“From tomorrow on, Foulmouth will be your deputy. You will select the best soldiers and centurions of the family to camp on the eastern border. I want to train you specifically to be the best scout captain of the Crag. You and your soldiers and centurions must all be marksmen.”

“Yes, Ser!”

“Ser Ryman Frey!”

“Here, Lord Gregor.”

“From tomorrow on, you and Polliver Clegane will train three hundred new recruits. I want every soldier to be an absolute elite. I will never allow a coward to appear!”

“Hoh!” Ser Ryman shouted.

…………

Earl Gavin, who was beside the Mountain, became more and more pleased and gratified as he watched and listened. The Mountain was a master of military affairs. He was truly worthy of being a high-ranking officer in Lord Tywin's five hundred elite knight camp.

In the main castle corridor, Lady Sybelle and her daughter Jeyne watched from afar, listening to the Mountain's imposing commands. The two mothers exchanged glances, both with knowing joy in their eyes.

“Jeyne, when I learned that Lord Tywin had betrothed you to the Mount—Ser Gregor, I cried all night,” Lady Sybelle sighed with emotion.

“I cried for more than just one night,” Jeyne said beautifully, her face full of the radiant glow of a newlywed woman.