I don't know how Lannister managed to keep our fight a secret, but he has my personal respect for it. During the tourney, nobility from across the realm had gathered to try their luck, and Casterly Rock was packed to the rafters with lords and ladies of every stripe. Maintaining secrecy under such circumstances was nearly impossible, yet the lion managed it.
We were now in the lower tiers of Casterly Rock, where outsiders rarely had cause to venture. An exception had been made for the occasion. Present were the elder Lannisters in the persons of Tywin, Kevan, and Stafford, along with the King, the Queen, Stark, and Uncle Yohn. No one else was permitted.
"Waymar, tighten it," I said, and my squire, Waymar Royce, obeyed at once. "Stop. Good."
After the Greyjoy Rebellion and my knighting, Uncle Yohn had co to in the way family does and asked to take his third son as a squire. Waymar had no prospects at Runestone, nothing beyond a castellan's post at so distant keep at best. Better then that he enter the service of a future High Lord who happened to be his cousin.
I liked Waymar from the start. Sharp enough, observant, responsible, attuned to my moods and quick to adapt, educated, with a solid grounding in the martial arts. He did place too much stock in lineage, which made him haughty and vain. But he was workable.
"Did you bring what I asked?" The answer to that question would shape everything about the fight ahead.
"Yes, though I had to hire so lads and promise them coin." The little rascal sensed leverage and wouldn't look at .
"Fine. How much?" That one was on . I had forgotten he was only ten, and the road from Lannisport to Casterly Rock was no short trip.
"One moon." They had really taken him for a ride. A moon was fifty-six pennies, twenty-eight loaves of bread, two days of hard labor.
"Take two. One for them, one for you." His eyes lit up like torches.
"Thank you, my lord!" He was already bolting off, but I stopped him.
"After the duel." He caught his mistake and flushed with embarrassnt. "And bring it here."
A few minutes later Waymar ca sprinting back and handed my beauty. She was my love, a flanged mace. The single-handed pole mace had been forged by the finest smiths in Lannisport after my own designs. Six sharp flanges of solid steel, a haft of ironwood, and a steel cap. As a mark of respect and a preparation for what was to co, the mace had been inscribed with Morgul runes. They were dormant for now, and their activation would require ti. In my right hand I carried my sword sword, in my left the mace.
"How much longer are we going to stand around here! Get on with it!" The King had spoken.
Our witnesses had gathered and were watching the start of the bout with close attention. They were trusted n, each of whom could call a halt on behalf of their fighter at any mont. Andar stood as my witness. Lord Tywin himself stood for the Lannisters.
We stepped into the center almost in unison and halted three ters apart. The Kingslayer was in Kingsguard armor, carrying a one-handed sword. He was no longer underestimating , and had co with his helt on.
"Well, what's that, a mace? If you wanted to show off, you could have saved it for later," the Kingslayer would not have been the Kingslayer if he kept quiet.
"Just giving you a head start," I replied in kind.
Lannister was the first to break, launching a lightning strike from high to low. I stepped calmly off the line of attack and swung the mace at his chest at the sa mont. The lion cub managed to fight through his montum at the last instant and pull away. Jai was lucky. One clean hit from and he would have been finished.
As King in my previous life, the mace had saved more than once in battle. Even after I beca a wraith of the ring I had kept using it, though with a different physical threshold I had needed to make it heavier and add a chain. Now I was returning to basics.
That brief exchange did not rattle Lannister. It only sharpened him. He seized the initiative again, driving in from the left side, and received a hard block in return. A few seconds pressing to break through ca to nothing, and a swing of the mace drove him back.
After a few more cycles of twenty or thirty exchanges, sitting in defense grew tireso, and I pressed forward myself, though I very nearly walked into a trap. The mace attack had to be cut short and converted into a guard. Lannister had quickly identified the mace's shortcomings, though it would do him no good. In the sa mont my sword caught him in the thigh, but the armor held.
Whatever kind of arrogant bastard the Kingslayer was, I would give him his due: he handled a sword with mastery. After a few clashes he had worked out that his best chance was to wear down or catch on a counter. That was his ga now, grinding away at my stamina. I was no fool and understood it had to stop.
After the next exchange I deliberately left my right thigh open. Sensing no trap, the lion cmoved quickly to strike, but at the last mont his sword caught between the flanges of the mace. A turn of the wrist and it was locked. While he struggled to wrench free, the crossguard of my sword ca across his helt, rocking him. The blow landed hard enough to set him staggering.
Without giving him a breath to recover, the mace ca down on his shoulder. The earlier disorientation combined with that last strike dropped him to the floor. All that remained was to press the blade to his throat. At that, Lord Tywin could hold back no longer.
"The fight is over," said the patriarch of the lion's house, and put an end to it.
-------------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters: patreon / ElvenKing20
User Comments
0 comments from readers