The Tournament 3
Lady Arryns: The little girl is the cutest, and you really see her trying to offer it to you. You should not refuse her.
You rode in front of the box and then tapped the lance in front of Lady Arryn. The scene caused a Kingsguard to step forward, but they then realized you were asking for her favor.
Immediately her face lit up with joy as she took a moment. She was ecstatic that someone was actually going to take her favor, and go to her and take it, who wasn't from the Vale. Or rather, someone who she chose and didn't ask.
The rest of the crowd was stunned to silence as the wreath of flowers was thrown down the lance. It was incredible how silent the entire crowd became with the simple choice of favor. As if the entire possibility was even greater than that of the tournament. The spectacle was incredible.
But the brawl soon stopped, as the men got ready to do battle in the joust.
First Battle: 20
And you faced first, the Sword of the Morning. His banner painted well on his chest, as he rode, both of you meeting in the center, and the man said. "You are silent, mocking the prince with your attitude?"
Well, he was talking to you, and right now, you were pretty sure it was impossible to mock yourself… You said nothing, as you instead looked at the King, who was happily cheering along, not even noticing you, as Daemon quickly and cleanly appeared behind him, and whispered something in his ear. Stopping his cheering and becoming very serious.
You then rode to your end and grabbed your lance. "Begin!" The master shouted and you rode at speed, couching your lance and taking aim, aiming for slightly lower than the middle of his torso, where, as Daemon said, they were most likely to fall off when hit.
Strike!: 115 vs 89
Your strike hit hard. Same as the Sword of the morning.
Your Lance shattered against his chest, and he fell down in his saddle, gripping his reins like they were a piece of driftwood at sea.
As for you, the lance of your enemy shattered and splintered into a thousand pieces, your helmet being the only thing preventing you from being blinded. But the splinters were entirely broken by the steel. And you recovered, staying on your horse. Barely.
He hit hard…very bloody hard.
You reached your second lance and grabbed it without hesitation, not even setting up your horse to straighten up. To focus.
You were scared, and you needed to win, otherwise, you would not survive.
Ulrik Dayne was laughing, and you heard a shout from him. "A Boy is the best Westeros can send against me!" He shouted out loud for all to hear. "A weak king sends a weak boy."
You saw Viserys visibly clutch his chair, as you continued. The threat was not an idle one. Clearly, they knew you were young, but now, it seems the reputation of the King was entirely at stake.
Strike 2: 89 vs 86
You looked at what you had and realized you needed to aim a little higher.
You couched the lance, and you took aim at his torso.
He did as well. But he aimed for your head.
At the last second, you moved your head down, and the lance was now right at your chest. It wouldn't kill you, but it would hurt gravely.
And yours was aimed square at his head.
And both lances shattered.
You somehow managed to remain on your horse. Still able to see and remain conscious.
And Ulrik Dayne, the Sword of the morning, was sitting motionless on his horse. His shoulders dropped, his lance discarded from empty and open hands, and his head tilted left and right as if he had no control over it.
His squire ran over to him and caught the knight before he could fall off his horse, but it was over.
Ulrik Dayne was unconscious. That much was certain. Whether he was still alive was entirely up to the gods, but you saw no blood coming from his helmet, and you saw his squire visibly relax as the knight moved his head and swore.
You were the victor against one of the greatest knights in the realm.
That was something.
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Second Opponent: 7
Your next opponent was a Lordling from the Reach, Samwise Osgry, one of the lords of the Northmarch, and he clearly looked as if he was a lord of a house. Shiny armor, well-off horse, and of course, several squires serving him.
While he was not the greatest knight, he had beaten quite a few. But there was nothing he did like other reach lords you had seen at the tourney. Clearly, he treated his men with more respect.
Nay, his men loved him. And if there was anything else you learned besides that. You would have felt bad.
And there was something more in his eyes that you knew were eating at him. A chip on his shoulder that was so much to bear.
He was a good man.
He was quiet as well, speaking nary a word save to his men. But they were ready.
Strike 3: 110 vs 53
You took your lance and aimed it well, same with your opponent. But one thing that you realized was that your size gave you a small, but very potent advantage.
You were a smaller target.
And when you stroke, it was with the force of a horse… not of you.
And when your lance shattered, Ser Osgry tumbled off his horse, his chest armor seemingly shattered from the force, and he tumbled down off his horse, riding the dividing rail, before hitting the ground with a thud.
He was alive as he stood up, but his men gathered around him and helped him. His pride was gone.
But it seemed you gained his respect as he looked at you and saluted you.
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Last Opponent: 1
Your Final opponent… was Harold Westering, Knight of the Kingsguard.
And he wanted to speak to you before the contest began at the center.
As you rode to meet him, something was nagging you, as you looked at the man's white cloak. He also towered over you with his armor and his large horse. He then took a moment to look at you, up and down and then said. "Did Daemon put you up to this Prince?"
You nodded, but that was not satisfying to him. "And the Mushroom's introduction?"
You made a gesture about gold. That was satisfactory for the Kingsguard, who must have known the Fool's lack of payment over the past few months. Especially because it seemed he was getting much less attention as of late, with happy times being made by the Queen and King. Not much use of a fool who was not needed or wanted. "I see." He said. "By all rights, I should drag you out and punish you for this Lucien." He said with a glare. "But defeat is its own punishment."
You shook your head.
You prepared. You knew you might lose. It wouldn't matter, he was the greatest lancer in the realm. But you were you. So it was an even chance.
You prepared yourself as you took a tighter grip on the lance.
Then you began your run. It was a mad dash, and you barely had a chance to couch your lance before the strike.
Strike 4: 87 vs 90
And the lances shattered and the wind got knocked out of you, the lance dropping from your hand as you were forced back. You were lucky you still had your hands on your reins.
As many learned, it was the only reason you were not unhorsed.
You then recovered as you controlled your horse, and moved to get a new lance.
And prepared.
Strike 5: 68 vs 144
Identity reveal: 73
Harold Westerling however, showed his skill and experience, as his next lance was shattered against your chest and you were sent flying in the air.
You hit the ground hard, but you knew you didn't have anything broken.
Except for your pride.
You coughed as your helmet fell off, and you realized that everyone could see you.
And Daemon realized it too.
Fuck.
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The Small council chambers were filled with most of the council, save for Ryman Redwyne, who was with the princess, and her friends. "I should have you punished for this." the King stated as he paced around the room. "Hiding as a mystery knight? Could you not wait to fight in a torney until you were old enough and when you had your own spurs!" He was furious, but his rage was also distant and unknown.
Daemon was sitting, wanting to say something in your defense, but couldn't. No one could.
"You are very lucky no one was killed and you weren't hurt more than your pride!" The king was feeling anger, and it was hot.
"I think it would be best if we found a more suitable way to punish the young prince, one that is equal to the chaos he caused." Hightower spoke as he looked up from his papers. "He did break the law."
Daemon finally spoke. "Yes, a tradition… Tell me Viserys, how many mystery knights were actually young boys at Oldtown? I can't remember, was it ten or twenty-"
"That is not part of the discussion Prince Daemon," he replied. "The prince is held-
Viserys took a moment to think. "No… I will punish him." He then looked at you. "Your winnings will be forfeit Lucien. Not a single gold piece will be for your own personal use. Queen Aemma will use it to serve the crown and the city."
He leaned forward. "Is that acceptable?"
You nodded. You didn't have a need for gold right now, Daemon paid for everything and without hesitation most of the time. Mostly because you never ask for anything.
"Good, now get out. Both of you." Viserys said as he demanded the room. And you and Daemon left.
As you left, Daemon whispered. "I found our mage. I'll tell you when we are ready."
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You have a few hours to wait until you strike.
What do you do?:
(Choose 2)
[]To the Ladies of the Realm: It seems your stunt has given you an audience. Numerous ladies of the realm were entirely wanting… Well, they want a lot of things. The good thing is Rhaeynra and her friend were safe, behind the kings guard.
[]The Seasnakes' Sails: The Sea Snake was utterly happy to see you. "I see that you crave adventure. And glory."
[]The Queen who never was: The Princess Rhaeyns was smiling at you as if she had won quite a bit. "Daemon is rubbing off on you. And it appears you are making all the same mistakes."
[]Mushroom: He smiled at the large pouch of gold. "You may have lost your winning, but you did have plenty of armor ransoms, and you made me quite a bit."
[]The Sword of the Morning: He was angry at you, and now, he had his wish to rough you up. "Get back here you shit!"
[]A man Loved by his men: Ser Osgry had a cup of wine and he was drinking to your health "Shall you join us Prince?"