As Jon's hard eyes swept over his soldiers, a silent ripple of excitement ran through the ranks.
For most of them this was the first time they had seen Lord Aeos in person and to them he was nothing less than legend. Many had once been slaves, bound in chains, they and their families suffering from the cruelties of their masters. He had freed them. He was the Breaker of Chains. He was akin to a god for them.
"How fast time flies," Jon's voice boomed and echoed in the surrounding, loud enough to carry to every man below.
Despite the pin drop silence, he had to put in a little bit of effort for his voice to reach all fifty thousand assembled.
"It is a little less than two years since I first captured Astapor. Since I took over that city. Since I freed every slave under my rule. Since I rose as monarch of Astapor, the ruler of Astapor. Since I declared that I would build the greatest empire this world has ever seen."
"Since then," he continued, "my rule has spread to three cities. When I had begun, there were no men except one lady fighting with me for my cause. Now I have more than sixty thousand of you all."
"I will not hide my intentions and I will not mince my words," he said. "From the very first day you were recruited into my army, you all knew this day would come."
"The day you would march to other cities to seize them, to liberate them, to make them free."
"And the time has come," he chuckled, "to make the Free Cities truly free."
"Are you with me?" Jon roared, raising his right hand and clenching it into a tight fist.
"Yes!" rose a thunderous chorus from below the hill, the sound echoing across the plain.
"Are you?" he demanded again.
"Yes!" came the echo.
"Good," he boomed, nodding with satisfaction.
"Standing behind me are the six commanders of your battalions," Jon continued. "I began with a single battalion and one commander."
"But then, one post had been left vacant, the General of all my forces. In other words, the supreme commander of every commander under my rule."
"Just now, I said that when I first began, there was only one person by my side," he added, turning his gaze toward Slyvia.
Slyvia understood the signal immediately and stepped forward with a composed, steady gait. This was the moment she had been preparing for over the past couple of months. She had been informed that this time would come by Jon before he had departed for Qarth.
Yet, as she looked down at the sea of soldiers, around fifty thousand faces turned toward her with curiosity and expectation, she felt a faint trace of nervousness run through her spine. Even so, that anxiety did not weaken her resolve. On the contrary, it hardened it. Her determination to fulfill her duty, to prove herself worthy of her title, only grew stronger.
She took her place beside Jon, her expression calm and unshaken. Not a flicker of her inner thoughts betrayed itself on her face.
"From this day onwards," Jon's voice boomed across the plain, "I, Lord Aeos, Monarch of the territories of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, hereby proclaim Lady Slyvia as the General of my armed forces."
From behind, Melisandre approached carrying a large tray in her hands.
Upon it rested a sheathed sword. Jon lifted the sheath and drew the blade free, its rippling grey Valyrian steel gleaming under the sunlight. He extended the sword toward Slyvia.
She did not appear surprised at the sight. The sword had been forged specifically for her, designed to her hand and balance as per her requirements.
Only a few of the officials watching nearby seemed mildly astonished to see a Valyrian steel blade. But even that surprise faded quickly. For a man who had conquered three great cities and such vast resources under his command, the acquisition of three Valyrian blades was hardly beyond belief.
"Lady Slyvia," Jon declared, his voice echoing like thunder. "Do you accept this responsibility?"
Jon held the sword out before him, gripping the blade at its midpoint, the hilt extended toward her.
"I do," Slyvia boomed in reply, her voice strong and unwavering. She took the hilt firmly and swung the sword in a sharp vertical arc. The blade sliced through the air with a clean, whipping sound that rang like a promise.
The next moment, she raised her other palm and made a sharp horizontal slash across it, drawing a deep cut. As blood trickled freely from the wound, she lifted her bloodied hand high into the air, facing the soldiers before her.
"I accept the responsibility!" she thundered, her voice echoing across the ranks. "I accept the position of General of this exemplary and courageous army."
Then she turned toward Jon and dropped to one knee, her head bowed in solemn respect, the tip of the sword placed on the ground and one of her hands on its hilt.
"Rise, General Slyvia," Jon said, a proud smile spreading across his face.
She obeyed, rising to her feet with the same steady composure she had shown all along.
Behind her, the six commanders took a synchronized step forward. One by one, they bent their knees, this time not to their Lord Aeos, but to their new general.
"General Slyvia," they echoed in unison, their voices carrying the weight of respect.
"Rise," she commanded, her tone firm and resolute. They did as told.
Many might have expected some resentment at this sudden appointment, at the rise of an outsider to the highest military position. But none of them felt any such thing. Their loyalty to Jon was absolute, and they had faith in every decision he made.
Even if a worthless person had been chosen as General, they would have shown the same respect and honor. But Slyvia was far from worthless.
None among the six could match her abilities, whether it was in strategy, leadership, or in a war. In truth, they doubted that even all six of them combined could face her head on and emerge victorious. Probably, they could not.
She was that powerful and she was their proud General.
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