Newton forced the dream out of his mind. He rose before dawn as usual. The cold water hit his skin, sharp and unforgiving. He welcomed it. It helped him forget. At least for a moment.
Training followed. Steel met steel. Boots scraped against frozen ground. Commands echoed across the yard.
Newton moved through it all with quiet focus. His strikes were clean. His defense was tighter than before. Every movement carried intent. The other knights noticed. Some admired it. Others watched in silence, their expressions harder to read.
Days passed. Then weeks. The dream returned sometimes, but Newton refused to dwell on it. He buried himself in routine. In discipline. In the rhythm of the monastery.
Then came the feast. It was announced early that morning. By nightfall, the great hall had transformed. Long wooden tables stretched from one end to the other. Torches burned along the walls, their flames flickering against stone. Plates of meat and bread filled the air with a heavy scent. Barrels of drink were rolled in and opened.
The knights gathered..Voices rose. Laughter followed. For once, the monastery did not feel like a place of restraint.
Newton sat among them. He ate, though his mind stayed alert. He drank, but only enough to avoid notice. Around him, the others grew louder. Some leaned into each other, speaking in hushed tones. Others raised their cups high.
At the center table sat Grand Master Aemon. He watched.
Silent, and patient.
When the feast began to settle, he rose. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor cut through the noise..Slowly, the hall quieted..All eyes turned toward him.
"Tonight," Aemon began, his voice steady, "I will name my successor."
A murmur spread instantly. Some sat up straighter. Others exchanged knowing glances. "My time is drawing to its end," Aemon continued. "My service here will soon be complete."
A heaviness fell over the room..One of the older knights spoke from the side. "You have been a father to all of us."
Aemon smiled faintly. "And that is why I must choose wisely.".His eyes moved across the hall. "Before death takes my breath."
The tension thickened. Glances began shifting. Slowly, almost naturally, most eyes settled on one man.
Tywin Mansfield. He sat upright. His shoulders squared. A faint smile tugged at his lips. Seven years at Aemon's side. Years of service. Years of quiet positioning.
It felt inevitable. A voice broke from the crowd. "We already know who you will name."
Laughter followed. "Go ahead and bless him.".Tywin's smile deepened.
Inside, his chest swelled. This was it. "My time has come," he thought. Aemon lowered his gaze briefly. Then lifted it again. "My successor."
The room leaned in. "and the next Grand Master of this monastery is." The silence stretched. A few knights began murmuring early. "Tywin Dembell," one whispered, lifting his goblet slightly.
Another leaned closer to his companion. "With Tywin leading, things will change." A smirk followed. "We might finally enjoy this place properly."
A low chuckle answered him. Then: "Newton Ice."
The words fell like a hammer..Everything stopped. The murmurs died instantly. Some blinked. Others shifted in their seats, as if they had misheard.
Aemon's gaze remained steady. "Newton Ice," he repeated. This time, there was no doubt.
All eyes turned. Newton sat frozen. The weight of their stares pressed against him..But there was no admiration in them. Only disbelief.
Then anger. "What is he doing?" someone muttered.
"A boy?"
"He barely joined us.".The whispers grew sharper. Knight Robinson rose to his feet. "Your Holiness," he said carefully, though tension crept into his voice, "I do not believe you are serious."
Aemon's eyes narrowed slightly.."And why would you think that?".Robinson swallowed.."The boy has served for only eight months." He gestured slightly.."There are masters here who have given twenty-five years."
His voice grew firmer. "And if not them, then Tywin Dembell." He nodded toward Tywin. "The one you trained for this role." Aemon smiled faintly. "Do you doubt the wisdom of the gods?"
The question hung heavily. Robinson's throat tightened. His hands trembled slightly. To answer wrongly was dangerous. "No," he said finally. "The gods are wiser than any of us."
He sat down. Silence returned. But it did not last.
Tywin stood..His chair scraped loudly against the floor..All eyes shifted to him.."You and I both know this has nothing to do with the gods."
His voice cut through the hall. Sharp, and controlled. But burning beneath. "You made this decision." He stepped forward. "Not the gods." His fists clenched at his sides. "Your favoritism has never been hidden."
A few knights shifted uneasily..But none spoke. Tywin continued. "You knighted him within two weeks.".He pointed toward Newton.."A process that takes eight months.".His chest rose and fell. "And now, after only eight months of service, you name him your successor."
He took another step closer.."Tell me.".His voice lowered. "Is it because he is your blood?" The hall stirred again. This time with discomfort. No one interrupted him.
Because he was saying what many of them believed. Newton remained seated. His hands trembled slightly on the table..He had not expected this..He did not want this..Aemon stepped down from the raised platform.
His gaze never left Tywin. "When a knight takes the oath," he said calmly, "he abandons family." Tywin's jaw tightened.."Lies.".He turned toward the hall. "All lies.".Then back to Aemon.."If you have abandoned your house.".He gestured toward Newton. "Then tell us what he has done to deserve this."
His voice hardened further. "A bastard.".The word landed heavily. "Born of an unholy union.".Some knights lowered their eyes. Others watched closely. "It is already a gift that he stands among us."
Tywin's breathing grew heavier. "And now you would place him above us?" Aemon studied him quietly..Then he turned. His gaze swept across the hall. "Who among you has broken the oath sworn to the gods?"
Silence. No one moved. No one spoke. Tywin opened his mouth, but Aemon's voice rose again. "Who among you has not lain with a woman since taking the oath?"
The question struck harder. Eyes dropped..Hands tightened around goblets. Aemon turned slowly back to Tywin.."Speak." His tone sharpened. "And I will place the holy flame upon your hands."
Tywin froze. His breath caught. For a moment, defiance flickered in his eyes. Then it faded. Slowly, he stepped back. He said nothing..No one else spoke either.
Because they could not. The truth sat heavy in the room. Aemon's expression softened slightly. "Step forward." Newton blinked. Then slowly, he rose. Every eye followed him as he walked toward the altar.
His steps felt heavier now. The hall seemed quieter.
Closer.
Aemon lifted a small flame from the altar. It burned softly. Blue at its core. He turned to Newton. "Hold out your hands." Newton hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he obeyed.
The flame was placed gently into his palms. The room held its breath. The fire touched his skin. And it did not burn.
Instead, it brightened. The blue deepened. Light spread across his hands.
Clear, steady, and unharmed.
Aemon turned toward the knights. "Now you see." His voice carried through the silence. "He alone stands pure before the gods." No one moved. No one argued. Shame settled across the hall. Heavy, and unavoidable. And Newton stood at the center of it.