ASOIAF/GOT: Minecraft in Essos.

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~~~Third Person, Ninth Moon, 277 AC~~~

~~~Hunting Camp, Crakehall~~~

The festivities had reached a peak. The merriment, the music sung by the bards, for the first time in Westeros's history, lords or knights sat at the same tables, eating their fill of pounds and pounds of beef, pork, hen, ducks, geese, sheep, or goat meat.

Azrael had shown wealth and power by offering more than fifty heads of each type of animal, providing meat to all, food that only the richest could enjoy at sporadic banquets. But now, everyone ate or drank like kings, the hundreds of barrels of beer or wine being emptied every minute were proof of that.

During the celebration and feasting, Azrael rose from his seat at the head table, an ornate table at which he and Valka were seated as the monarchs of Xandar, seated next to Aerys, Rhaella, and Rhaegar, plus Tywin and Janna at the far end of the table.

Today they were all in a large clearing, the ground had been flattened, and many large tables were set up in front of the main table, which was on top of a wooden platform, always showing the different status of all those gathered.

The sun had already set half an hour ago, and although there was no sunlight, that was not a problem, since lanterns and lanterns hung on large wooden poles, providing enough light to illuminate the place as if it were a carnival.

The moment Azrael got up from his seat, everyone stopped eating and turned their heads to look at him, the very recognized and famous phrase; <> was being shown in its perfection at this moment, Westeros, or at least the highborn and people with status within the kingdom, could be part of the great celebration that took place in Westerland.

Many of the luxuries shown here were given by Azrael, especially now that the Reach had closed its grain sale, for these assembled people, lords, ladies, and knights, that news did not 'affect' them, since, although the news of not having food to buy should alert and drive anyone mad, for them, that did not matter to them at the moment.

They were all satiated day and night, eating more meat in those days than in their entire lives, getting rich from gambling and drinking and eating for free, and with the tournament just over, it meant they were in heaven. Evidence that they needed only bread and circuses, and Azrael, along with Tywin, offered that, which in the eyes of many, elevated their importance.

Azrael was no longer seen as a child in command of a barbaric but wealthy kingdom of Essos, but as a full and promising ruler, and Tywin, he managed to elevate his position within the realm, becoming perhaps, the hand of the most competent and beloved king in history.

So when Azrael rose, it was no surprise that all stood expectant of what he would say, as he was already held in high regard by many, whether with good or bad intentions.

"For me, it has been a delightful experience, to be able to enjoy these days of hunting with you all, to witness the power and skill of the knights of Westeros, and in how the art of the sword and the thirst for activities that put us on edge brings us together!" Azrael began to say, almost shouting so that his voice could reach everyone. At the same time, the men were banging their cups or glasses on the tables, agreeing with what he said.

"And that is why I call for the winners of the hunts to come forward, and make receipt of their rewards, those weapons they managed to obtain as a token of their fury, strength, and power in the fine arts of hunting!" As much as some felt envious or angry at having missed the great opportunity, they still joined the others amid applause and chorus.

The first to approach the head table was Ser Gregor Clegane, in possession of his armor that made him look much larger than he was, his arm had been healing, but he still could not use a sword with said limb.

Second, and with a size and bearing similar to The Mountain, was Robert Baratheon, the young lord of the Stormlands, who had earned the place of the winner of the third hunt, successfully slaying a Hrakkar, those huge white-furred lions that inhabited the savannahs of the Dothraki and Lazhar Sea.

Robert was followed by a tall, muscular man with black skin and hair and brown eyes, Tragus, the man from the Summer Isles, had managed to slay a tattooed lizard in an amazing and spectacular display of bowman ship, managing to shoot an arrow into the animal's eye socket with the aid of his Heart of Gold bow.

The three of them, along with Brandon, who had left two days ago with his family and the Northmen back to the North, had been the winners of the hunts, and although there were five, there were only four winners, since the fourth hunt had to be suspended due to the large number of kills that resulted, as no one was able to fight a Devastator released in the forest.

Azrael clapped his hands, the exact moment Maicol stepped onto the main platform in the company of servants carrying a long wooden stand, with three weapons on it.

"Lord Tywin, will you do the honor?" Azrael said to Tywin, who showed some moderate surprise at being taken into account, but turning serious moments later, he stood up and walked over to where Azrael was standing, who nodded as Tywin reached him.

Azrael took the first weapon, a bastard sword of Netherite steel, with a guard made of gold, with black leather from the basilisk Ser Gregor had killed lined the hilt. With a pommel in the shape of a roaring lion's head.

Holding the sword, he addressed the people; "this sword is the token of your strength, your mettle, and one which will accompany you in your many years of life, a sword which will be weapon and defense for your future", handing the sword to Tywin, Azrael watched as the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands took the sword, one hand on the hilt, and the other on the flat blade, as he approached Ser Gregor and offered him the sword.

Once Ser Gregor accepted the sword, the crowd erupted, toasting the act, and looking cheerful for the moment.

As for Tywin, he showed for the first time in many years, a smile on his face in public, and while not many noticed, those who did were stunned to see the old lion smiling. And how could he not? His house was being exalted as Ser Gregor was receiving a sword of such high profile, surpassing swords of Valyrian steel, for Tywin, it was a strong feeling, one that even made him erase, if only for a few seconds, his cold and emotionless face.

Next was Robert, a young man who, though he was fifteen years old, or five and ten days to the Westerosi, was already just short of passing the six-foot-tall threshold, strong, stocky, and with a masculine beauty that would make any lady he met blossom, made him a perfect match for many, and in his hunt, he had shown his talent, proving victorious, and showing the power of the Baratheons.

Robert, being Robert, had not decided on a sword, but on something he had trained with and for which his body, in Robert's own words, would enamor his muscles and make him unstoppable on a battlefield. Which was a war hammer.

The weapon presented a higher level of mastery to maneuver it since it would be necessary to have considerable strength and speed to fight with a weapon of such caliber, in addition to having good arm control to avoid being pulled by the force of the hammer when swinging it, something that Robert did not affect him.

Azrael took the weapon from the rack with one hand, and although he was under the effects of the strength potion, in itself the hammer weighed no more than ten kilos, such as the light weight of netherite steel, since, despite the entire hammer being made of the metal, it did not weigh much.

Stars formed in Robert's eyes when he saw the weapon, it was perfect, and instead of having one or two blunt heads, the hammer had two ways of attack, the head of the hammer on one side, with four spikes capable of piercing even stone, while the other end had a blade of a spike more than thirty centimeters long. This added to its two-meter handle, made the weapon a complete meat and metal shredder.

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This time, it was Steffon, Robert's father, who gave the hammer to his son with a smile full of happiness and pride, getting another round of applause, leaving Tragus, the Silvereño, who decided on a bow, which was made with netherite steel in its entirety, even the string was made with small rings joined together. In addition to having sharp edges and two huge grooves at the front that did not alter the balance of the bow, but offered its user a form of melee attack.

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In the end, the hunt came to an end, and it would be time to return to Casterly Rock for the wedding, something Tywin was more than eager for.