Solomon looked at the silent, kneeling soldiers.
Since arriving in this world, he had a plan. A dangerous, revolutionary plan.
He intended to break the Westerosi feudal system on his own lands.
He would replace blood-right lords with a military landed gentry.
Every lord in Westeros was a king in his own castle—a state within a state. Solomon's lands were poor and empty, which was perfect. A blank slate for reform.
He would use his knowledge of history—even just high school history—to fix the system. No sub-infeudation. No complex vassal chains. He would grant land for service, but the title would be tied to the office, paid by him.
He would create a class of soldiers who earned private land through blood. He would tax land, not heads. He would protect their property rights when no other lord would.
These new men would have no history, no allies, and no gods to protect them. The Old Gods and the Seven supported the old order.
So, they would have only one god: Solomon.
Defending him meant defending their own land, their own future.
This continent had been stagnant for too long. It needed a new kind of nobility—one that didn't care about ancestors, but about power and unity.
Solomon didn't believe in abstract loyalty. Loyalty was a transaction. He gave them hope, and he delivered on it—halfway.
The rest? That was the art of the Blank Check.
Write the check large enough, and men will die to cash it.
Solomon looked at Lauchlan, kneeling in the dirt. He looked at the silent soldiers.
It was time to close the show.
Slowly, deliberately, Solomon began to untie his black robe.
He stripped it off, revealing a torso that was young and lean, not scarred like Lauchlan's, but corded with muscle.
"Lauchlan," Solomon said calmly. "I am your commander."
"If you failed, it is because I failed to lead you."
He tossed the rattan whip in front of Lauchlan.
"Now, it is my turn."
Lauchlan's head snapped up. His eyes widened in horror.
"Lord Solomon! No!" He scrambled forward on his knees, trying to grab Solomon's legs. "No!"
Lushen threw himself to the ground too. "My Lord! No! You cannot!"
The soldiers wailed, begging him to stop.
Lauchlan pressed his forehead into the dirt, sobbing uncontrollably. The hundred lashes hadn't broken him, but this act of grace shattered him completely.
"Do it!" Solomon ordered coldly.
"My Lord! If you do this..." Lauchlan's voice cracked with despair. "Lauchlan has only one way to pay!!"
He drew his dagger, ready to slit his own throat.
Clang!
Solomon kicked the dagger from his hand.
He dropped to one knee, grabbing Lauchlan by his bloody shoulders.
"Do you know why I punished you today?!" Solomon roared, shaking him.
"I hate that you are soft! I hate that you are weak!"
"You love your soldiers! But you do not discipline them!"
"This is war!"
"You are killing them with your kindness! Not saving them!"
"You command a hundred today! And you have no control!"
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper that echoed in the silence.
"How can I trust you with my great army in the future?"
Lauchlan looked up, tears streaming down his face. He threw his arms around Solomon, hugging him tightly, weeping like a child.
Solomon looked over Lauchlan's shoulder at Lushen.
"A general is the brain and heart of the army."
"Even if you are brave, Lushen... how many men can you kill alone?"
Lushen lowered his head, ashamed of his own recklessness.
From the shadows, Bronn smirked. The kid acts pretty well when he wants to.
Solomon pulled away from Lauchlan.
He stood up and drew his sword.
He held it in his right hand. His left hand pointed at his two lieutenants, then swept across the faces of the three hundred soldiers.
"When I left Mirekeep, I had two men!"
"Now, I have three hundred!"
"Sooner or later!"
"I will have one thousand! Three thousand!! Five thousand!!! Ten thousand!!!!"
He pointed his sword at Lushen and Lauchlan.
"Do not blame my harsh laws!"
"When that day comes! You will lead those five thousand! Those ten thousand!!"
"You will be my right and left hands! My life and blood!!"
He slapped his bare chest with his left hand, pacing back and forth, sword raised high.
"When that day comes! Your places will be taken by the men sitting here today!"
"You will be my officers!! My claws and teeth!!"
He roared, his voice carrying the fire of ambition.
"Sooner or later!"
"I, Solomon, will take you across the Seven Kingdoms!!"
"We will walk every inch of Westeros!!"
"I will give you everything!!!"
"I will give you food!!!"
"I will give you land!!!"
"I will give you gold!!!"
"I will give you houses!!!"
"I will give you women!!!"
"I will give you servants!!!"
Solomon stabbed his sword into the earth!
He stopped pacing.
He pointed a shaking finger at them, his eyes glowing green in the firelight—half wolf, half lion.
"ONE DAY!!!"
"I WILL MAKE YOU—KNIGHTS!!!"
"I!—WILL!—MAKE!—YOU!—NOBLES!!!"