Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 18

Chapter 18: The Brotherhood
...
Richard POV

I stood by the window of my solar, the cool night air brushing against my face as I gazed at Lannisport. It was mine now—every street, every corner, every shadow. The Lionheart family had secured its grip over the city.

Over the past moons, I had gained more than control; I had gained enlightenment. And with it, I had set a new goal for myself, one far greater than what I'd originally imagined.

I thought back to my past actions, trying to decipher my motives. There was no guilt for the innocent blood I'd spilled, no pride in the power I'd seized. Just... emptiness. Not the kind that consumes, but the kind that clarifies. I hadn't lost my emotions after all—I had simply uncovered the truth of who I had always been.

Even before Wolverine's abilities coursed through me, I had stolen, I would have killed, I would have manipulated without a second thought if I had the power to do so. It wasn't out of cruelty or ambition, but out of survival and necessity.

That primal instinct had shaped me into a creature of control, a creature of power. And now, with the means to take more, I would do exactly that.

Whether it was creating the Lionheart family, killing Rodric and his group, and dismantling rival factions—it was all part of that same pattern. I acted not out of kindness or vengeance, but because it was within my reach.

And now? Now I wanted more.

I would become more than a knight, more than a lord, and more than a king.

Because I could.

As I entertained these thoughts of domination, a knock sounded at the door. My underbosses had arrived.

"Come in," I said in a calm, measured tone, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips as the breeze from Lannisport swept through the room.

The door opened, and four young men entered. Conrad, just seventeen, wore a dark hood, his presence as quiet and deadly as the assassin group he led. He moved like a shadow, the youngest of the underbosses but perhaps the most dangerous of them all.

Laenor, eighteen, stood in contrast with his high-quality tunic and trousers, the picture of refinement. His sharp mind for politics and trade had earned him his place among my underbosses.

Then there was Jon—tall, broad, and imposing at seven feet, with a yellow and black tunic and dark trousers stretched over his massive frame. At twenty, he was a brute force, a man made for battle.

Finally, Addams entered, dressed in fine silk like a wealthy merchant. His mastery of disguise was unparalleled, and his network of spies kept us a step ahead of every move in Lannisport. He was also eighteen, but already a master in the world of shadows.

"Welcome, boys," I said with a grin, watching them take their places. "I wanted to congratulate each of you."

I let my eyes linger on each of them, the smile still on my face. These were my underbosses, my trusted men, each skilled in their own way. Together, we had taken Lannisport. But this was just the beginning.

I turned to my desk and took my seat. All of them watched me patiently, waiting for my command.

"Sit," I said calmly.

The four men immediately stepped forward, each pulling out a chair and sitting in unison. I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. These men were the most loyal and ruthless of nearly a thousand members in the Lionheart family.

They were smart, efficient, and capable of handling both blood and business. They feared me as much as they respected me—and they feared the other name I carried, the Hooded Man.