In the grand parade ground, three hundred new recruits stood in perfect formation.
Chosen from among three thousand, these were the finest, the elite. Both the Mountain and Lord Gawen were clearly satisfied with the overall quality of the troops.
Three units stood before Ser Gregor Clegane.
At the center were the three hundred new recruits.
To the left stood the Clegane cavalry, 104 strong.
To the right stood the garrison and personal guards of The Crag, numbering 180.
Altogether, there were 584 soldiers present. The centurions, officers, and knights stood separately in front.
Ser Gregor spoke in his thunderous voice:
"Chiswick, temporary commander of the Clegane Cavalry, step forward."
Chiswick emerged from the ranks. His head was unusually large, with a vicious scar slashed across his forehead. His features were fierce, and his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Kneel!"
Chiswick dropped to one knee in a single fluid motion, head high, staring resolutely at Ser Gregor.
He still didn't know what was happening.
With a great shing, Ser Gregor drew his massive greatsword. Nearly two meters in length, longer than most spears, it was twice as wide as a standard longsword and weighed several dozen pounds. Yet the Mountain wielded it one-handed as if it weighed nothing at all.
"Father," Gregor said, "let the Maester assist us."
The Maester stepped away from Lord Gawen's side and walked forward.
"Chiswick," Gregor announced, "you and your seventeen brothers followed me through the night, storming twenty castles and capturing twenty-seven knights, helping House Westerling reclaim lost lands. For this great service, I now name you a knight. Please follow The Maester and swear the knight's oath."
"Y-Yes, Ser Gregor!" Chiswick stammered with joy.
Under The Maester's guidance, Chiswick loudly recited the long knight's oath.
Among the 500 soldiers present, many looked on with envy. Chiswick had just stepped beyond the barrier that separated commoners from nobility. He was no longer a mere mercenary or thug, he was now a knight, a man of status and honor.
Ser Gregor laid his enormous sword on Chiswick's shoulder and proclaimed in a clear, resonant voice:
"Chiswick, today, at The Crag Castle, in the presence of dozens of knights and noble lords, and witnessed by over five hundred soldiers, I, Gregor Clegane, hereby dub you a knight and grant you the name Clegane. From this day forth, you shall be known as Ser Chiswick Clegane."
Chiswick trembled with emotion.
Once a street thug, forced to fight and kill just to eat, he had climbed his way up to lead a band of mercenaries, but even then, the nobility had looked down on him with contempt.
Today, everything changed.
Today, he stood proudly before nobles and knights alike.
He had taken the knight's oath. He had become a man of honor.
Knighthood could not be inherited.
It had to be earned.
Only the bravest and most worthy could receive such a title.
It was recognition of valor, a glory worth dying for.
"Rise, Ser Chiswick Clegane," Gregor said. "From this moment on, you are one of House Clegane. You are my kin and my brother. No matter how cold the winter, there will always be a place for you in my heart. No matter how dry the summer is, you will always have a drink from my well."
Chiswick rose to his feet, radiant with pride, eyes shining with emotion.
"Ser Gregor, I am honored to be welcomed into House Clegane. I pledge my life to you, and my loyalty will never waver. Should it be required, I would gladly give my life in your service."
The honor of knighthood had locked Chiswick's loyalty for life.
"Good," Gregor nodded. "Go embrace your brothers.
Ser Raff Clegane."
Raff stepped forward and hugged Chiswick tightly.
"Ser Dunsen Clegane."
Dunsen came forward and delivered a hearty punch to Chiswick's shoulder. Chiswick grinned and returned the punch, then the two clasped hands and smashed their shoulders together with a loud thud.
"Ser Polliver Clegane."
Polliver approached, his right cheek twitching, a manic grin on his face. Much taller than Chiswick, he reached down and tapped Chiswick's oversized head.
Chiswick's brothers winced, unsure how he'd react.
But Chiswick just stared at Polliver, then slowly broke into a wide smile, like a flower blooming.
He wasn't angry at all, in fact, he was elated.
Polliver laughed and hoisted Chiswick into the air. "Brother, welcome to House Clegane. You've earned the right to wear our sigil, the hound."
"Julie Clegane!"
Julie stepped forward. "Uncle, congratulations on becoming one of us."
Chiswick blinked, then looked a little embarrassed. "Julie, I didn't know Ser Gregor would knight me today. I didn't prepare a gift for the only daughter of House Clegane."
"Uncle, if someone bullies me in the future, I want you to stand up for me. That would be the best gift."
"I'll butcher them myself!" Chiswick said, and drew his dagger, slicing across his palm. Blood dripped freely.
"I swear by my blood, should anyone harm Julie Clegane, I shall avenge her. If their words are foul, I'll beat them. If their deeds are vile, I'll cut off their heads."
"Good!" Chiswick's seventeen sworn brothers roared in unison.
The Maester struggled to hide his discomfort. These men reeked of banditry and crude behavior. He could hardly bear to watch.
Julie threw herself into Chiswick's arms and kissed the top of his massive head, drawing laughter from his rowdy comrades.
And so, House Clegane gained another family member.
Its knights now numbered four: Sweet Raff, Executioner Dunsen, Mad Polliver, and Iron-Head Chiswick.
Ser Gregor had plans to knight six more individuals based on their merits:
Mark the scribe
Tobho Mott, the weapons master
Gendry, the blacksmith's apprentice
Foulmouth, the loyal boy
Raynald Westerling, heir to The Crag Castle
And Julie Clegane, his adopted daughter
Turning back, Gregor addressed Chiswick and Juli:
"Return to formation. Ser Chiswick Clegane."
"Yes, Ser Gregor." Chiswick's once-wild demeanor had softened. After arriving at The Crag, he no longer referred to Gregor as the Mountain, but with proper respect.
No one but Ser Gregor could have led that legendary night raid, traveling over 200 miles and capturing 27 knights. In comparison, Chiswick saw himself as a lowly hill and Gregor as a towering mountain.
"Tomorrow morning, leave Foulmouth behind and take your other sixteen brothers back to Lannisport. Form a thousand-man mercenary regiment."
"Yes, Ser Gregor!"
"Find your old pirate comrades. If they're willing to join the navy, welcome them. If not, bring them under your command."
"Yes, Ser Gregor."
"Ser Raff. Ser Dunsen."
"Yes, Ser Gregor."
"Tomorrow morning, take the Clegane cavalry from The Crag. I'll give you Lord Tywin's orders. You'll be conscripting men from the dungeons of Western lords. We need 414 more to meet Lord Tywin's numbers. You have one month to return with no less than 500 cavalrymen. The Crag's dungeons will give you seven new knights. Bring extra horses. If you need more on the way, borrow from other lords."
"Yes, Ser Gregor."
"Do not conscript from House Marbrand of Ashemark. Pass through their lands quickly and avoid trouble. Do not cause any incidents."
"Yes, Ser Gregor!"
"Captain Raynald Westerling."
"Here, Ser Gregor."
"Starting tomorrow, Foulmouth will be your lieutenant. Select your best soldiers and centurions. Go east and set up camp. I'll personally train you to become The Crag's finest scout captain. Every centurion under you must be a master archer."
"Yes, Ser!"
"Ser Rolph Spicer."
"Here, Ser Gregor."
"Starting tomorrow, you and Polliver will train the 300 recruits. I want each of them to be elite warriors. I will not tolerate a single coward!"
"Hoah!" Ser Rolph roared.
═══════✧❁✧═══════
Watching from the corridor of the keep, Lady Sybelle and her daughter, Jeyne, looked on as Ser Gregor gave his booming orders.
They exchanged a glance, eyes filled with unspoken joy.
"Jeyne," Lady Sybelle said with a sigh, "when I learned Lord Tywin had betrothed you to Ser, Gregor, I cried all night."
"I cried more than one night," Jeyne said, smiling brightly. Her face glowed with the radiance of a newlywed.
⚔────────
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