3 **Chapter 3: Birth of a Prince**

**Location: Westeros,North,The last Hearth.**

**Time: 276 AC**

In the far reaches of the North, news of the birth of Prince Viserys had arrived, carried by the swift winds and whispered through the merchants of the Last Hearth. Messages, written in ornate script, bore tidings of joy from the distant lands of the South. Yet, the celebrations that echoed through the realm seemed like a distant melody in the stern halls of House Umber.

A tourney is being held for the birth of Prince Viserys, and the rewards are rather generous. Despite being the second prince of the realm and considered a spare, the significance of the Targaryen name still carries weight. 

All the high lords have been summoned for the tourney, but I bet there will be any participation from North. The Lords of North are often seen indifferent to the events of the South. While the Birth of the Prince is a joyous occasion for the realm, it does little to impact the lives of the people in the North.

These Dumfucks don't seem to care much about what's happening in the South. The North continues to be place of its own, separate from the grandeur and intrigue of the southern court.

**POV (Alaric)**

Amidst the stone walls and hearths that roared with the Northern winds, I found myself breaking my fast with my father, Lord Umber, a simple yet hearty meal before us. My platter, laden with sustenance, was a testament to the physical demands of my burgeoning strength. I was no ordinary six-year-old; I was a giant among boys.

My aspirations centered around achieving Maximum gains. Too much depended on my prowess as a warrior, and it was clear that being a small guy in a fight would never be an advantage. Given my size,I highly doubt I can get small .

If I were to emerge victorious in the joust at the upcoming Tourney that is being held, the money would be beyond what my family can imagine.

The purchasing power of gold dragon was astronomical as it can get.Dont let the show fool you by the extravagant displays of Bobby B who threw vast amount of money around, where gold flow like water. It didn't diminish any of the purchasing power of gold dragons. Indeed,gold dragons remained a potent currency. I have strong doubts that even the levy soldiers who go off to war in the North receive a single gold Dragon as compensation.

"Father, why are you not participating in the tourney?" I inquired my father, with as much innocence and curiosity a six name day can show.

"And Pray tell me why I should participate in some southern cunts tourneys" My father asked while raising an eyebrow at my question.

I can't tell this dumbfuck that he could easily earn some gold dragons from such tourney or by selling some animal fur and pelts directly to the south as I sure as hell the merchants were undoubtedly ripping us off by diminishing our goods value.

"I heard other says, you are the strongest warrior in the whole Westeros, wouldn't the southern cunts see your might" I said to him stroking his ego as much as I can, for which father doesn't enjoy seeing his son admiration for him.

"Aye! That I am" he laughed at my response and began to rub his beard.

He began to leave to gods know where without giving me any proper response. I began to follow and ask for the real question that I have come for.

"Father, can I begin my sword training?, I want to be as strong as you" I asked, I had a hunch he is going to approve, after all, manipulating these dumbfuks with simple words were often straightforward.

"hmm..Aye! You are big enough to lift a sword. You can ask your grand-uncle to start your training". He said and left .

I don't plan to follow him this time I began to move towards lord cellar where I can find my grand-uncle, Mors "Crowfood" Umber, the castellan of our stronghold. 

*********

Pov(Mors"Crowfood" umber)

These paperwork will be the death of me. It's a curse that no umber should endure. I don't understand why I have chosen such tasks, we have bloody maesters to handle these matters . If "jon",in his lordly place even have an outa do his duties, I would not have such headache. I really envy my brother Hoather; they call him "Whoresbane" for a reason.

As I shifted through the never-ending paperwork,a knck on the door interrupted my misery.

"Come in." And there he stood, my grand-nephew, with more more gaint's blood cursing through his vein than any umber in history . He is large for a six-name day umber. 

"Why are you here, brat?" I inquired, curious as to know what had brought him to me,considering his rare visits .

"Great-uncle, Father has asked me to begin my sword training with you" Of course he would ask me that. That brat is far too indolent to handle the responsibilities of being a father.

"Right…you're big enough to swing the sword, I will tell Uthor about it.I would not tolerate any slacking from you, Aye! "He puffed his chest proudly at my response. Hmm It brought back memories I might have done the same when my father allowed my training.

I had been a young, eager lad when I made my plea to my father for sword training. The memory of his nod of approval and the subsequent rigorous training flooded back, Reminding me of the sweat, the aching muscles, and countless hours honing my skills. 

With a sense of pride and nostalgia,I patted my grand-nephew's shoulder and said "You'll train hard. Uthor will teach you and you'll become a fine warrior, I'm sure of it"

I couldn't help but grin as he departed, that boy will do well in the future call it a hunch but I believe he can make the umber's name rise above all. 

(Author note)

Hello guys I hope you are still liking this chapter. Let me cook guys and as promised before I will give a masterpiece for you to read .

I hope you can understand it.

And at last 

Shower me with POWER STONE.