…Chapter Start
.
.
.
.
(...Daemon Pov)
Hearing the horn, I quickly unsheathed my sword, raising my shield to intercept an attack that came at my right— 'Seven Hells, we just started.' Luckily, his opponent's sword was stuck in the shield, so when he raised it, his belly was left open so he could deliver a riposte to the stomach that knocked the air out of him before backhanding him with the shield, knocking off the helm of the knight before positioning his sword at his throat.
"Yield," I said coldly, and thankfully he yielded.
I looked around me to see the horde of steel. As with each clash of steel, a dance followed as the warriors in the melee started to dance to this tune and even he was affected by the song that was being sung. He shifted on his back leg narrowly dodging a swing from a Warhammer that a large knight wielded.
'Best not get hit by that.' I said internally before advancing towards the knight that got height over him by 4 inches spinning his sword in his hand before slapping it against his shield to goad him into attacking which the large knight seemed to agree with as he swung the hammer with force of 2 men and Daemon intercepted it with his shield holding in his wince as the force shook his forearm.
He swiftly countered, a low slash to the knee, his sword cutting through the air with speed, but even though the man was large, he was quite skilled in using the Shaft of his Warhammer to intercept the slash and then slashing upward to his chest using the Warhammer.
Daemon pivoted to the right, and with his pivot, he slashed horizontally to the side, hitting the knight on the side and making a shallow wound.
"Tis but a shallow wound." He heard from the man before stepping back to observe him—his sigil was that of a stormlander…that perhaps explained why he was using a Warhammer, but before he could think more about it, the man rushed forth, swinging his hammer horizontally to break his defenses.
But he used his shield to intercept moving with the force to create distance between the man before rushing in and starting to swing in a precise manner unleashing a flurry of attacks that forced the man to intercept with the length of the hammer the two seemingly lost in their battle of steel, unfortunately one of the participants bumped into Daemon,
'That piece of shit-' I said.
This caused him to buckle, which the storm lander took advantage of—swinging his hammer to the head of Daemon, but luckily, he shifted the weight on his leg to narrowly evade the attack.
"Lucky bastard." He heard from the man before getting up.
Although the man doesn't know who he is under the helm calling him a bastard would've caused him to come at him this time, putting his skill on display, this wasn't filled with anger but the fact that he had almost lost his fucking head.
'The battlefield doesn't care if I'm a bastard—so why should I?' I thought as I and the storm lander were locked into a duel before I feinted a riposte and actually pivoted to strike him on the back of the leg before slashing at his helm and judging by the fact the man fell on the floor it was right to assume the man was affected by strength behind the swing.
"Yield!" I say raising my sword to his helm while keeping my eye out for anyone else.
"I yield. You are skilled, Ser. Don't falter so early like me." The knight said, taking his Warhammer and leaving.
"Aye," I said before moving on; that Stormlander was skilled and would've gotten him for that mistake had he not made that timely adjustment.
I advanced, challenging man after man, beating each one with my skill and speed. There was no one I'd encountered that had the might similar to that of the Stormlander knight, with most of them being taken down with a parry and a counter riposte. Currently, I am interlocked in battle with the commander of the City Watch—Janos Slynt.
Shing! Clank! Clang!
I parried, clashed, and parried—my strikes getting faster and started to overwhelm the commander, who he could tell was getting pressured immensely. With a move I've learned from my father, I disarmed him before backhanded him with my shield, which unfortunately or fortunately knocked the man out.
'...I didn't put much force into hitting—and he was barely average with the sword. How he got the position is beyond me.' I commented internally.
I sighed before turning on my heel, seeing that the numbers were dwindling. Drastically, this surprised him. Was the melee always this quick? He couldn't get any more time to ponder as he was quickly pushed into another encounter —this time it being 2 more gold cloaks, perhaps friends of the commander he had beaten.
"This retaliation for me beating yer commander?" I said arrogantly, raising my sword and shield—spinning my sword in hand.
"Aye, you're making the watch look weak by defeating the commander, and for that, you'd have to kiss my steel." Knight 1 said seriously.
"Although this doesn't mean to say you aren't good with the way you bested the commander, so no hard feelings." Knight 2 replied comelily.
"None was taken, but if you'd had wanted to beat me, you should have carried 2 more of you." He said while bashing his shield with his sword inviting them for a dance of steel.
.
.
.
(General Pov)
"The melee this tourney seems to be more violent than last year, wouldn't you agree uncle?" Myrcella asked Tyrion who was indulging himself in his cups.
"That it is my wonderful niece, perhaps the coin they would be receiving would be enough to swim in it," Tyrion replied before downing his cup.
"And what's the amount?" She asked, but before Tyrion could reply, Cersei replied with narrowed eyes. "30 thousand dragons to the winner, 15 thousand to second place, and 5 thousand to third place." She said all of this, staring at Robert, who was indulging Himself in one of the serving girls grabbing her arse.
"A reward worthy of these barbarians," Joffrey said snarkily, causing Tyrion to groan and Myrcella to roll her eyes. "You shouldn't say that about the knight's brother."
"Why should I care? They should be lucky I didn't decide to grace them wearing my armor and wielding my sword, Heart Eater." He replied arrogantly.
Hearing this, Tyrion snorted as he knew that Joffrey was putting on a mask of bravery; the boy was cruel, yes, but a warrior? Seven's no.
Myrcella herself would have rolled her eyes if she didn't have her mother and brother staring at her, knowing her brother all too well, and while he was better than Lancel, he wasn't any warrior who would fight in a melee.
"As you say, neph-" Tyrion was about to say but stopped seeing the sigil on the armor he bought for Daemon, who was fighting 2 gold cloaks simultaneously and was seemingly unbothered as he interchanged between attacking and defending.
"That knight seems to be doing well against those 2 gold cloaks," Tommen commented, causing Robert to look over to the fight.
"Two of my gold cloaks can't take down a random knight? Maybe I should cut the pay that the men of the City Watch are receiving." He said in anger before his cup was filled by Lancel.
"To Be fair, your grace, that knight managed to beat the Lord Commander of the City Watch," Jamie said, causing Robert to groan.
"And whose idea was it to instill Janos Slynt as the lord commander? The man is barely even good with the sword!" Robert remarked, putting down the cup, which was a shock to Tyrion and Cersei—a first in moons.
"Probably Lord Renly—he is the Master Of Laws, your grace," Jamie said smirking.
"Seven Hells.." Robert replied while rubbing his forehead as if he was getting a headache. "Woah he defeated both of them!" Tommen said while jumping up and down.
True to his word the knight had bested them both after pivoting to the outside of the swing and hitting the gold cloak with his shield pushing him over to the other golf cloud who hit him with his own sword knocking him out and the Mystery Knight to deliver a vertical slash to the helm of the knight defeating him.
"That he did," Tyrion said while smiling. 'You have the eyes of the king on you Daemon—don't squander such.' Tyrion said internally.
.
.
.
.
…Chapter End