Chapter 130: Kneel or Fight

Half an hour later, Aron walked out of Eamon's office, he spent that time making plans and mentally going through all the possibilities that he could think of.

One particular idea consumed most of his time—a possibility that made sense to him, especially after learning about the involvement of the King's cousin in controlling the southern city.

He pondered on this possibility further as he strode purposefully through the corridors of the keep. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to be falling into place, and Aron was determined to uncover the truth behind the mysterious disappearance of the Frostguard's supplies and the assassination of its previous commander. Yet despite this Aron wasn't going to jump to conclusions and rush things or act before he understood the whole picture and obtained all the necessary evidence.

However, Aron being Aron, creating false evidence to draw the real ones was always on the table.

Reaching the Keep's heavy steel-oak door, he found Lieutenant Eamon standing guard, Eamon bowed respectfully reporting.

"Lord Commander, everyone is waiting for you in the courtyard"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Aron offered a curt nod. Pushing the door, stepping into the bone-chilling and covered-in snow courtyard.

Hundreds of faces turned towards him, a mixture of curiosity, apprehension, and a flicker of hope in their eyes. All gathered here to see their new lord commander, only a few soldiers were kept at strategic points and towers, watching for any intruders or monsters coming from Fenris' direction.

"This way, commander," Eamon gestured towards a wooden platform newly erected to the right, ensuring everyone could see their new leader clearly.

As Aron ascended the wooden stairs, a figure already stood waiting. The man was ancient, his back bowed with the weight of countless years. Long, silver hair cascaded down his shoulders, framing a face etched with deep lines and wisdom.

He wore a flowing mage-like robe of silver adorned with crimson details, and around his waist hung a massive collection of ornately carved metal keys.

The old man met Aron's gaze with a warm smile, revealing startling similar crimson eyes to him.

"Welcome, Lord Commander," the old man greeted, his voice raspy but strong. "I am Eldarion, Keeper of the Watchers, Archives, and advisor to the Frostguard for generations."

Aron inclined his head respectfully towards the elder man. "It is an honor to meet you, Keeper Eldarion," he replied, his voice steady and respectful. "My name is Aron."

Offering his hand for a handshake, Keeper Eldarion accepted it with a warm smile. However, when their hands met, Aron suddenly noticed a flicker of something akin to surprise cross Eldarion's face for a fleeting moment. The elder quickly recovered, his smile returning, though it seemed to hold a hint of reservation now.

"Lord commander, I would like to have a word with you later in private," Eldarion proposed.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Aron replied, a hint of amusement flickering in his crimson eyes. Although he was curious about what caused that reaction in Eldarion, he decided to leave it aside for now. More pressing matters demanded his focus.

"Great… Now let us begin."

Keeper Eldarion turned and walked slowly to the center of the wooden platform, his crimson gaze sweeping over the assembled Frostguard. The silence in the courtyard was thick with anticipation.

A young man, his robe a lighter shade of silver than Eldarion's, approached the elder with a reverent bow. In his hand, he carried a thick, leather-bound book that exuded an aura of antiquity. Its cover was worn smooth with age, adorned with intricate symbols that seemed to shimmer faintly in the pale sunlight.

However, what caught Aron's sight wasn't the size or the thickness of this book, but the symbol on the front cover.

A Dragon.

Its form was stylized, a single, powerful wing outstretched as if grasping at the sky. The detail was intricate, the scales rendered with a painstaking level of detail. But it was the crimson eyes of the dragon that sent a jolt through Aron. They mirrored his own, glowing with an intensity that seemed to pierce through him.

'What's the meaning of this?'

A wave of questions crashed over him. What did this symbol represent? Was it the emblem of the Watchers? If so, then why? What connection did the dragons have to this place in the past?

Only a soft cough snapped him out, coming from Eldarion as he sought to catch everyone's attention. The Keeper simply snapped his fingers, and the book immediately left the young man's hands, hovering in the air close to Eldarion.

"Thank you, Tarian," Eldarion said, addressing the young man who had brought the book. Tarian nodded respectfully before stepping back, his gaze fixed on the floating tome with a mixture of reverence and awe.

Eldarion turned his attention back to the gathered Frostguard, his voice ringing out with authority. "My dear brethren, today marks the dawn of a new era for the Frostguard. We stand at a precipice, the echoes of a troubled past mingling with the uncertainties of the future." Eldarion's voice resonated across the snow-covered courtyard, his crimson gaze sweeping over the assembled Frostguard.

"For generations, we, The Frostguard and The Watchers have served as the shield against the encroaching darkness, wielding our blades in defense of this realm. But the time wasn't kind to us, for we stand now as a mere shadow of our former glory, the knowledge of our true purpose fading with each passing generation."

A murmur of discontent rippled through the ranks. Most really didn't care about honor and glory since they were criminals and forced to be here by their kingdoms serving their time.

In truth, they just want the old man to finish his speech so they can go back to whatever they were doing; standing in the snow-covered courtyard with pathetic clothes isn't a pleasant experience.

Aron noticed this and didn't blame them for it. If he were in their place, sick and barely any clothes covering his skin, he would react the same. However, when he gazed at them with his dragon eyes, he saw something strange.

All of them had something inside their chests. An egg-size thing with roots coming from it and spreading throughout their bodies. It pulsed with a faint, ethereal light.

'No… it's the other way around.'

Focusing on just one, Aron quickly realized that the roots of this 'thing' were actively sucking the mana from every fiber of the man's existence.

'A Parasite?'

[Affermitve Master] The system's voice suddenly echoed in his mind [This is a parasite that leeches the life force and mana from its host, weakening them over time]

Aron's jaw clenched, not liking the words he was hearing. The situation was far graver than he had imagined. Not only were the Watchers extinct but the Frostguard was barely a functioning organization. But now, it seemed they were also afflicted by a parasitic infestation that threatened to undermine their very existence.

As Eldarion continued his speech, Aron's mind raced with possibilities. How had these parasites infiltrated the Frostguard? Were they the cause of their decline, or merely a symptom of a larger problem? From the cold? Or a result of fighting monsters? Or is it a hidden hand pulling some strings?

Eldarion's booming voice brought him back to the present. He turned to Aron, gesturing for him to come close. Aron approached, scanning the elder with his eyes. And as he feared, even Eldarion was suffering from this parasite.

"By Grace of Her Majesty Eleanora Van Avaloria, First of her name, High Queen of Avaloria and the Arch-Magus of the Arcane Tower, I would like to announce the New Nine hundred and sixty-ninth Lord command of the Frostguard and Grandmaster of the Watchers… Aron."

As Aron expected, not a single one of them seemed to care; the look on their faces was a mixture of suspicion and unsurprisingly hostile.

Aron chuckled inwardly, knowing that gaining the trust and respect of the Frostguard would be no easy task. And frankly, he didn't care; all he cared about was they must follow his orders to the letter if they wanted to survive.

With that thought in mind, Aron waited for Keeper Eldarion to finish writing his name with a magical owl feather inside the old book. Officially declaring Aron as the new lord commander and keeping a record of him. Finishing up, Eldarion took a few steps back, leaving Aron on the stage.

Aron took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. He gazed at his men, noting the vast diversity among them.

Humans and beastfolk formed the bulk of the force with the diversity coming from beastfolk, since a lot of races with animal characteristics like cats, dogs, wolves, bears, and more fall under the umbrella of the term Beastfolk. As for the humans, there were a few that looked like humans in Aron's eyes, but they were massive in size compared to the other humans.

Dwarves and Elves were here too, with Elves being the rarest. Aron saw only five elves, two in particular were different; their skin was dusky gray and their hair was light blue.

As Aron was about to speak, suddenly someone interrupted him yelling.

"Just get along with it, we are freezing here!"

"YEAH YEAH!" another one spoke.

Another one from the back yelled, "We don't need a commander, we need our freedom back."

Once these words were spoken, a cacophony of shouts and jeers filled the courtyard. Frustration and resentment boiled over; even if they were criminals and deserved everything that happened to them, a little bit of mercy wouldn't hurt.

The voices kept rising and rising, hinting to Lieutenant Eamon and his soldiers of a potential riot. Yet before things escalated to that level, a tremendous pressure fell on the shoulders of the one thousand and eight hundred men, dropping them to their knees.

"Well… Well… what do we have here?" Aron's commanding voice cut through the chaos like a blade, silencing the courtyard in an instant. "Ah, a cub who grew a little fangs and decided to nip at his master's hand. How adorable."

Aron's voice was laced with a mixture of sarcasm and authority, his words carrying a weight that silenced the courtyard in an instant. The Frostguard, who moments ago had been caught up in a storm of defiance and resentment, now found themselves kneeling before their new lord commander, their expressions a mix of apprehension and fear.

"You want FREEDOM?!"

The Frostguards struggled to raise their heads; all they could do was steal quick glances at him.

"I'll give you freedom, but first…" Immediately Aron leaped high in the air, landing in the middle of the courtyard. The impact of his landing sent shockwaves through the Frostguard rank, sending them hurtling in the air, clearing the snow and revealing the stone floor.

It didn't take more than two seconds for Aron to be the only one standing in the courtyard. He then waved a hand, creating a blazing ring of crimson flames around the courtyard.

"You must earn it."

The flames danced and crackled with intense heat, casting a warm glow over the courtyard and illuminating Aron's figure in a flickering red light. The sudden display of power sent a wave of awe and fear rippling through the Frostguard, their eyes wide with shock as they watched their new commander.

Aron raised both hands in a welcoming gesture, yet his bloodthirsty smile was everything but welcoming. He spoke the next words as he instinctively fused them with mana, similar to the words of power.

"Defeat me in combat and walk away free." Each word shook them to the core; some even forgot how to breathe from the sheer pressure.

"Lose…and your fate would be mine."