Chapter 36

Back at the Citywatch Garrison,

After Aerion's speech, he faced the men of the City Watch from the podium. He could see the raw dissatisfaction in their eyes at least in the majority of them.

Their unwillingness to even acknowledge his presence spoke volumes about their attitude towards him.

Ser Harwin, noticing the blatant disrespect, was on the verge of reprimanding the men. Despite his own dissatisfaction with Aerion's backdoor appointment and his refusal to acknowledge him as commander, he still treated Aerion with the respect befitting a prince. After all, regardless of titles and roles, Aerion was still royalty.

Aerion, standing tall on the podium, surveyed the sea of faces before him. He raised a hand to silence Ser Harwin, who was about to speak. "There's no need, Ser Harwin," Aerion said, his voice carrying a note of understanding. "I can understand their feelings, and yours as well. I don't blame them."

He took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled City Watch. "Men of the City Watch," he began, his voice echoing across the field, reaching every ear. "I understand your feelings, your dissatisfaction, your pride. Therefore, I, Aerion Targaryen of House Targaryen, appointed commander of the City Watch, am willing to relinquish my title and authority to one among you who is worthy…" He declared loudly.

His words hung in the air, causing a hush to fall over the field. But he didn't allow the silence to linger. "But!, …..only if that person can best me in combat and prove to me that he is better than me."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Men exchanged glances, their whispers filling the air. "Is the prince mad? Even the weakest among us could defeat him barehanded."

"Is he too arrogant?" another asked

"Perhaps I should give it a try!" a high ranking person said.

"Fool! He's a prince. If we challenge him now, we'll be targeted." another cautioned.

"Yes, I think so too!" Another agreed.

Aerion stood there, witnessing their hesitation, hearing their whispers. He knew their reluctance stemmed from his royal identity and the fact that it was the king who had appointed him.

Going against him, no matter what reason there is, it's like going against the king's edict.

Shaking his head, he spoke up again, "Don't hesitate, I speak no fallacy. I promise, in the name of House Targaryen, that I will not target you or resort to any tricks. And for your convenience I'm not even willing to not even use a sword." He turned to Ser Harwin as he spoke, his gaze steady.

"You can also join them."he offered.

" You can come at me one by one, or in twos, threes, or fours. With swords, war hammers, or any weapon of your choice. With or without armor. The choice is yours," Aerion declared once again turning to the crowd.

His confident words stirred an uproar among the men of the City Watch. They felt belittled, looked down upon.

"So, who is first?" Aerion's final words were like the last straw, opening the floodgates. One by one, the men rose to his challenge.

"Prince or not, I'm going to teach this boy a lesson called humility," murmured some of the men, their voices laced with determination.

These men, members of the City Watch, were brimming with confidence.

They had seen their fair share of young nobles who, after besting a few family knights in duels, began to believe they were invincible. Such encounters often led these young masters to develop an inflated sense of their own abilities.

Aerion, in their eyes, was one such young master, a prince in need of a harsh reality check. They were prepared to give Aerion a metaphorical beating, a lesson that would make him think twice before speaking so freely.

Ser Harwin, noticing the growing agitation among the men, rose to his feet. "Prince Aerion, I will be your first challenger," he declared, his voice cutting through the murmurs.

Aerion nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Very well, Ser Harwin. Let us step forward then."

The men of the City Watch parted, creating a wide circle for the duel. Ser Harwin approached, his movements confident and measured. He drew his sword, the steel glinting in the morning light.

Aerion, true to his word, stood unarmed. He raised his hands, signaling his readiness.

"Prince, please take a sword. I don't wish to duel you like this, and I hope you can take this seriously as I won't be showing any mercy," Harwin reminded him seriously.

"And prince Aerion, in a duel your actions can be taken as an insult to your opponent with such actions." Harwin reminded.

"Ser Harwin," Aerion's voice sliced through the clamor, resonating with clarity. "Your strength is palpable, and your reputation precedes you. I acknowledge you are a formidable adversary and accept your proposal." His gaze softened, a hint of a smile gracing his lips as he made his declaration.

Aerion's heart throbbed in his chest. Years of rigorous training and countless duels with his uncle and the king's guards had honed his martial arts skills and fortified his physique.

But standing against Ser Harwin was a daunting task. The man was a living legend, a personification of unbridled power. Every move he made carried the strength of a giant.

Initially, Aerion had planned to fight unarmed, relying solely on his martial arts expertise. However, Ser Harwin insisted he wield a sword.

Respecting the seasoned warrior and sensing a hint of danger from Harwin, Aerion reluctantly accepted the weapon—a simple steel blade, its hilt worn from years of use. Harwin chose a similar sword.

These weapons were designed specifically custom made for training, ensuring minimal injury even when struck during the duel.

Aerion gripped the sword, feeling its weight. "Let's begin," he said, his voice steady. He raised the blade, mirroring Harwin's stance.

The duel commenced.

Ser Harwin lunged, his sword cutting through the air with lethal precision. Aerion decided to meet the strike head-on to gauge Harwin's strength.

"Clank...!!"

Sparks flew as the swords clashed. Harwin's powerful blow forced Aerion to retreat a few steps. He glanced at Harwin, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

From this single exchange, he realized that Harwin's strength was on par with his own, if not slightly superior. This realization thrilled him.

Aerion seized the initiative. Their swords danced against each other, parrying each blow effortlessly. The symphony of clashing steel echoed like a battle anthem.

The crowd watched in awe as the two warriors circled each other. They were astounded by Harwin's performance, given his renowned reputation. But it was Aerion, whom they had underestimated as a mere child, who was now matching Ser Harwin blow for blow.