We had an option to improve strategy by studying houses or something when we took the study action.
Not having invested in studying strategy is something Lord Strong raised in-quest, as a reason why we wouldn't be a suitable commander of the city watch. I think it's likely that we'll have a study: military history or something that improves strategy if we pick study, and we could probably get Lord Strong to tutor us. We don't need to have command of a military force to build that skill from where we have it right now.
Edit: Maybe we could even combine this with something Viserys likes as a way of build rapport? While his passion is for the city recreation thing, it'd be pretty in character for him to have a decent knowledge of valyrian military history or something.
Even funnier would be inventing rules for some sort of wargame with his hobby minatures, live the warhammer fan viserys meme.
Edit: Maybe we could even combine this with something Viserys likes as a way of build rapport? While his passion is for the city recreation thing, it'd be pretty in character for him to have a decent knowledge of valyrian military history or something.
We have been degrading our relationship with Daddy rather alarmingly. As far as special dragonlord command techniques, being on dragonback provides otherwise incomparable battlespace intelligence and signals advantages. You can see everything, and everyone can see and hear you[r dragon].
We have been degrading our relationship with Daddy rather alarmingly. As far as special dragonlord command techniques, being on dragonback provides otherwise incomparable battlespace intelligence and signals advantages. You can see everything, and everyone can see and hear you[r dragon].
While Paddy' portrayal was excellent Viserys as a person leaves a lot to be desired. He seems upset whenever we do anything or even remind him that it is sometimes necessary to do things. He had some point about the trial - but I'll also point out that fucking Jaehaerys also fought in a trial by combat, despite having a Kingsguard. I think every single King or heir besides Viserys fought for their life or at least saw combat at some point. Part of being the head of a warrior aristocracy is being a warrior. And he's been upset about entirely reasonable and even necessary things like bringing up Arnold's revolt, so I predict we're going to butt heads a fair bit in the future. In light of that, some additional bonding would be a good thing.
On Dragonriding - See you yes - hear you probably only with a horn or something.
Also, have we been degrading it rather alarmingly? Like, I went through and looked and it seems as if it's only dipped once since the beginning of the journey. Am I missing other things, since right now he's still 'Warm' with us, which is itself steps above actually having a negative relationship.
Also, have we been degrading it rather alarmingly? Like, I went through and looked and it seems as if it's only dipped once since the beginning of the journey. Am I missing other things, since right now he's still 'Warm' with us, which is itself steps above actually having a negative relationship.
He was upset over the length of the journey (although I'm not sure if that was a relationship degraded) and we did have another relationship degrade shortly before the beginning of the journey (over raising the Vale issue).
Edit: Is that degrading alarmingly, idk? My mention of Viserys was mostly in the context that if we could improve the relationship while improving skill that'd be a good thing.
Also, have we been degrading it rather alarmingly? Like, I went through and looked and it seems as if it's only dipped once since the beginning of the journey. Am I missing other things, since right now he's still 'Warm' with us, which is itself steps above actually having a negative relationship.
Not really, it has dipped once because we danced with Jeyne at the wedding, and then in Gulltown after we killed Arnold in trial by combat, and before that when we pushed to have Daemon and Rhea's marriage annuled, but aside from that we've gotten more relationship gains than losses, since almost every turn we did something with Viserys.
Off the top of my head:
-Turn 1: Spoke with him and Rhaenyra and Viserys both bonded over shared grief over Aemma
-Turn 3: Spoke with him and helped him avoid the marriage with Laena and get married to Johanna
-Turn 5: Studied Valyrian History with him
-Turn 6: We requested a dress and a progress and he liked how wise the idea was
On top of that not all gains and losses are equal, he seemed more worried for us than angry at us for the Arnold thing, and both the Jeyne dance and Rhea's marriage he seemed more annoyed over the isssues than genuinely upset, whereas us giving him comfort over Aemma and giving him a bride who isn't 12 years old had him seem genuinely grateful to us.
While Paddy' portrayal was excellent Viserys as a person leaves a lot to be desired. He seems upset whenever we do anything or even remind him that it is sometimes necessary to do things. He had some point about the trial - but I'll also point out that fucking Jaehaerys also fought in a trial by combat, despite having a Kingsguard. I think every single King or heir besides Viserys fought for their life or at least saw combat at some point. Part of being the head of a warrior aristocracy is being a warrior. And he's been upset about entirely reasonable and even necessary things like bringing up Arnold's revolt, so I predict we're going to butt heads a fair bit in the future. In light of that, some additional bonding would be a good thing.
On Dragonriding - See you yes - hear you probably only with a horn or something.
One thing that's important to keep in mind with Viserys in how he treats Rhaenyra. She's not just his daughter, she's not just his heir, she's Aemma's only surviving child. He's been forced to accept that Rhaenyra feels more comfortable with a sword in her hand then she does at a dance. But like, there are gonna be moments when he worries a lot.
So a Tyrell Marriage would have seen a Redwyne made Master of Ships and after pressure from the various reach houses, Viserys would have allowed the Redwyne fleet to fight Piracy in the Stepstones (And yes, that is kind of ironic for me to do that). Which would mean Corlys would just sulk on Driftmark while Daemon turned his army of Goldcloaks into a sellsword army in Essos, and Yes they would have been called the Golden Company.
Since both oponents will go at each other with full plate armor, and you need a significantly smaller bow to use it in dragonback, it is goinf to be quite useless unless we manage to hit it in one of the openeing of the armor
I know we're all using "dance" as a euphemism for "civil war fought over the succession," but I can't help but imagine this in the context of "no, I meant literally ballroom dancing."
Depending on the size of the dragon, it would be more like elephant back archery. It would be far less of a balancing act due to the size difference, and there would be far less strain of doing archery and controlling the mount at the same time, again due to the size difference and because dragons don't need to be controlled at all times.
Yeah this is pretty much what I'm getting as well and I'm also just noting that while that's adjacent and looks a lot like a healthy worry from a parent about their child, it's kind of a lot more fucked up.
To restate it in a slightly worse way, his feelings for us are not primarily about who we are or our relation to him - they're about our relation to his dead wife who he kind of killed*. Much of his commitment to canon!Rhaenyra being on the throne was guilt about Aemma as opposed to anything to do with Rhaenyra. And at least some portion of the remainder was his feeling betrayed by Daemon. And while this never backfires on canon!Rhaenyra, this feels somewhat unstable to me because what happens if he ever doesn't look at her as primarily the last piece of his dead wife, but rather as her own person?
I'm not actually sure this is always true, though I could be wrong. My honest impression is that a lot of dragonriders, especially female dragonriders, go into battle wearing limited or no armor.
But you're certainly right that a small bow and arrow won't be effective against a plate-armored target when both sides are on dragons, barring possibly shenanigans like Valyrian steel bodkin points, and that would be a really, REALLY obnoxious waste of Valyrian steel, so no.
Let's not forget that dragons breathe fire capable of melting rocks... That is why dragon archery is very redundant...
To be fair, dragons can only breathe fire in the direction their mouth is pointing, they have a bit of a windup time, and they're often rather... preoccupied... in dragon-on-dragon combat.
The fact that not every dragon combat ends in one rider or the other getting flamed off their dragon's back suggests that if you DID have a weapon reliably capable of incapacitating the other dragon rider through whatever armor they're wearing (say, an AK-47)...
Well, in that case it might well be worth the trouble of bringing it along.
Which is not to say that a bow and arrow is such a weapon.
Who do you think won the Joust? As long its not Peake or Cole, I would count it as a win.
Possible Funny Scenario: The winner scans the crowd to crown Rhaenyra, only for his opponent take off his helmet revealing his indetity as Princess Rhaenyra who takes the crown nonchalantly and walks off the tourney grounds.
Who do you think won the Joust? As long its not Peake or Cole, I would count it as a win.
Possible Funny Scenario: The winner scans the crowd to crown Rhaenyra, only for his opponent take off his helmet revealing his indetity as Princess Rhaenyra who takes the crown nonchalantly and walks off the tourney grounds.
Us (Hopefully), but aside from that, Teen did say that the rolls were interesting, now as someone who ocassionally DM's DnD games, when I say "Interesting" after rolling some dice, it's cause something just went wrong for my players and i'm being a bastard, but QM doesn't seem like that type of guy, so something genuinely unlikely probably happened.
I'm sure we did well even if we didn't win tho, I mean our jousting is at a similar level to our sword arm and I struggle to name anyone aside from good old Roddy the Ruin who could beat us in that department, plus we have a minor advantage from studying the tourney at Harrenhall, along with whatever we gained from entering the Melee.
This sort of depends on how it was done - a lot of the "normal" fights we haven't got dice rolls for. But if dice were rolled then our prowess of 7 or 8 is actually going to lose to an average competitor of say prowess 4-5 a decent fraction of the time. If it's Bo1 elimination, at least. I wouldn't be surprised if we weren't the favorite against Cole, since it was mentioned that he was an exceptional jouster and he seems set up to be the miniboss of the "getting our knighthood" quest.
This sort of depends on how it was done - a lot of the "normal" fights we haven't got dice rolls for. But if dice were rolled then our prowess of 7 or 8 is actually going to lose to an average competitor of say prowess 4-5 a decent fraction of the time. If it's Bo1 elimination, at least. I wouldn't be surprised if we weren't the favorite against Cole, since it was mentioned that he was an exceptional jouster and he seems set up to be the miniboss of the "getting our knighthood" quest.
Yea but keep in mind that QM also said that for cases where someone is a 4-5 and we're a 7-8, he won't even roll for it since we outclass them so badly and that rolls are intended to be used for situations where he thinks it will make things more interesting if left to some chance, which narratively makes sense since someone at 4-5 is an average to pretty good knight and us at 7-8 is approaching levels of Barristan Selmy, and we don't need to ask the question of who would win between Barristan and a random knight.
Edit: Keep in mind I said "Approaching Barristan levels" cause we're not quite there yet, that guy is pretty insane, tho I do wonder if Rhaenyra is stronger than Bobby B, then again, the Demon of the Trident is pretty anime levels of bullshit too.
Edit: Keep in mind I said "Approaching Barristan levels" cause we're not quite there yet, that guy is pretty insane, tho I do wonder if Rhaenyra is stronger than Bobby B, then again, the Demon of the Trident is pretty anime levels of bullshit too.
I suspect it actually is a coincidence that Prowess 8 doesn't have a comparator the way Prowess 7 and 9, or Warcraft 8, do. But my is it vexing.
Also, like, every stat is an abstraction. As presented, the system is not granular enough to take into account, say, particular proficiency in the joust over other disciplines, and that might be modeled in a number of different ways (Cole, for instance, might roll with advantage in jousts (roll an extra die of his regular size, drop the lowest result; c.f. our bout with Harwin), or might roll at +1 his usual Prowess in jousts, or might get a static modifier).
Yea but keep in mind that QM also said that for cases where someone is a 4-5 and we're a 7-8, he won't even roll for it since we outclass them so badly and that rolls are intended to be used for situations where he thinks it will make things more interesting if left to some chance, which narratively makes sense since someone at 4-5 is an average to pretty good knight and us at 7-8 is approaching levels of Barristan Selmy, and we don't need to ask the question of who would win between Barristan and a random knight.
Edit: Keep in mind I said "Approaching Barristan levels" cause we're not quite there yet, that guy is pretty insane, tho I do wonder if Rhaenyra is stronger than Bobby B, then again, the Demon of the Trident is pretty anime levels of bullshit too.
as a quest lover i will say we have to remember that after the "it' so over" comes the "we're so back!" we ride the wheel until it turns in our favor once again. only when you understand this will you achieve true peace.
You could feel you hands tingling underneath your armor as you entered the melee pit. Your heart beat harder and harder in your chest as you took your position, waiting for the fight to begin.
This was a risk. You'd seen a melee or two in your time and read about others. They were brutal affairs that always left people injured and deaths were far from rare either. And you knew a victory here wouldn't be enough if you lost in the jousts, yet a good showing here would help if you had success in the days ahead. Beyond that though, you wanted to fight. You wanted to see how people fought you when they had no knowledge that you were a Targaryen or a woman. You wanted to test yourself against people you knew without a doubt were not holding back.
There were dozens of knights here. Heirs to entire kingdoms stood not far away from simple hedge knights. You decided to focus on those nearest to you. There was Borros Baratheon, heir to the Stormlands, his helm crowned with a massive set of antlers. Elmo Tully, the Riverland's heir, had stylized his armor in a similarly befitting manner, his visior molded to have fins on both ends. Then you had your sworn shield, Raylon Tarly, cutting quite the image in enameled white armor. Though perhaps none struck quite as memorable a figure as the Bolton with his bright red, almost pink armor that made him look a man turned inside out, his helm a leering skull.
Forrest Frey, Medrick Manderly, Roderick Dustin, both Hightowers and Ser Criston Cole were more modest figures in contrast. Their armor was clearly well made, but simple in design and usually covered by tabards bearing their house or personal sigil. Though Gwayne's helm did resemble the crown of a tower and lord Dustin's had a fur lined cape.
Then there were the Hedge Knights. Lann Pyke and a Northern fellow simply called Long Derrick, and the Mystery Knights, yourself and another known as the Scarlet Spear. All of you wearing battered and or mismatched armor, Derrick's helm had a notable dent in it, and the paint work on Lann's shield was such that you struggled to even make sense of it for several minutes before realizing those were supposed to be two sycthes.
Then there was the Scarlet Spear. To put it simply, your fellow mystery knight was definitely on the shorter side and was just too small for their armor. Your armor may have come from three different sets, but after the muscle growth you've had over the past few years it fit quite well at least.
Overall the group made for an interesting sight if nothing else.
"I'm curious, Lord Dustin. I heard you were going to enter the lists," Forrest Frey remarked as the last bits of preparation were being made around the pit. "I thought Northerners outside the Manderlys and Rogar Bolton here didn't do much jousting. So, what brings you here if I may so ask?"
"Winter's coming, as Lord Stark likes to say," Lord Dustin's words sounded like a growl even though he was attempting to be civil. "Before long I'll be locked up in my hold, with little to do but ration my food supply and tell tales by the fire for the next few years. Figured this would be a good chance to add some variety to my tales."
"One last battle before the snows get too deep," Rogar added in agreement.
"I may not follow the Seven," Derrick spoke up, earning the surprise of most of the lords and the annoyance of more than a few of them, "but I grew up hearing tales of chivalry and knightly honor, mi'lord. Seems Knighthood is something worth aspiring to, no matter which gods you follow."
"A fine sentiment," Forrest said with an earnest smile.
"Agreed," you spoke, your voice lower and huskier than your norm.
The announcer stepped onto the tourney grounds, bringing an end to any conversation.
"Lords and ladies," the announce declared in a loud booming voice. "It is my great honor to welcome you all to to the melee portion of this great tourney! You are all gathered here to witness a contest of savage skill and might!"
The announcer then began to explain the rules, which amounted to basically that the last man standing won. Someone was out either when they were knocked down or willingly exited the fenced off area that amounted to their arena.
After the man finished and withdrew, the chaos began.
The next few minutes where a mess. Dozens if not hundreds of individual moments as everything around you turned into a blur. You were smashing aside a shield as you forced your way forwards. Next you were all but ramming into the Ironborn would-be hedge knight with your shield, knocking the flail from his hand with a single swipe. Then he falls just as easily as his weapon. Before you can properly take another breath, the Frey is upon you, and you can feel your shield crack as his blunted mace collides with it, a dull pain radiating through your arm. Then you're swinging at him as you use your shield to keep him from blocking with his own. Someone is laughing. It might haven been you.
Fighting in a melee had little in common with a duel. There was little time to think, let alone plan. It was a chaotic brawl that one survived through instinct, reflexes and sheer strength of mind and body. You were quite enjoying yourself. Your blood was pumping so hard you could barely think. Your back was screaming at your from a mace hit that you were certain was gonna leave you black and blue. Your whole body ached and yout armor was covered in mud and blood and other foul things, and yet you couldn't deny this whole mess thrilled you. The sheer joy left you surging with the energy you needed to keep going. You could be wild and unrefined, fight like a true warrior without any fears of being judged because you were a princess.
The Bolton was the first to fall. He slipped on the dirt right in front of Borros and paid the the price. His defeat was followed not long after by the Crimson Spear and, shockingly, Lord Dustin, who both fell to Derrick before he in turn was taken out by Redfort. Gwayne managed the impressive feat of knocking out Medrick in his name day tourney, though his cousin quickly gave up after encountering the Baratheon heir. The rest? You weren't sure how the rest fell.
By the time you had time to think, you were standing over Borros Baratheon, your shield a mess of splinters, as Gwayne crawled away from Criston Cole. Ser Raylon had pulled himself up over the fence after Criston had knocked him down, his white armor largely brown by this point.
You charged at Criston. It was just the two of you left at this point. Victory was agonizingly close at this point
He wasn't as quick as he was the first time you fought him. You easily dodged his first blow, and had you been at full strength, you were certain you could easily have deflected the second, but fighting so many for so long had taken a lot of out of you and the mace hit hard, sending you reeling as the remnants of your shield were fully reduced to useless splinters.
You could keep fighting. The pain from the blow was intense but nothing was broken. But both of you were exhausted. It would have been an ugly mess of a brawl, one you weren't certain you could win, against one of the few people in this tourney who you'd fought before and who would have little reason to help you keep hiding if they recognized your true identity.
This wasn't a joust. A victory in the mud would prove much, but it wasn't everything. Second place here was enough.
"I yield!" You declare as you threw down your sword, before all but collapsing to your knees.
"Victory to Ser Criston Cole!" the announcer declared to cheers from audience.
Ser Criston looked at you in surprise.
"I must admit," Cole said between ragged breaths, "after what I've seen here I expected a fight to the bitter end."
"What fun is a mystery knight if they're revealed before the first tilt?" you asked wearily. "Rather ruins the appeal, I think."
"True enough," Cole nodded. "Then I hope we'll face each other there."
"I could not agree more," you grinned beneath your helm.
Second place was good, but second place and beating the winner in a joust? That was almost as good as winning the melee outright.
While you could hear a few dissapointed cries, most were cheering as the two of you wearily made your way off the field
Thankfully, you were well rested, if more than a little bruised when it came time for the tourney's main event, jousting. As the whole event was being held in his honor, Medrick Manderly would be the first tilt of the day. And he would be facing Gwayne. Part of you couldn't help but wonder if one of the Manderlys had arranged for that after the melee as a way of settling the score.
The rules were simple. Three tilts, winner was decided by best of three or by unhorsing, the latter being an automatic victory. Since Daemon wasn't around there were no exceptions or special rules, no being allowed to fight a duel if you were knocked down. You won or lost on your horse.
It was interesting watching things from the ground level. Some of the details remained the same. Servants exchanged bets just as regularly as high lords, though the scale was different. The smallfolk bet halfpennys while you'd seen Lord Beesbury throw around more gold on even the minor bouts than any of these stablehands made in three years.
The two men took to the field. Ser Medrick dressed in brillant sea-blue, the crowds cheering their lord's heir as he made his way around the field, taking in all their love and affection, before asking for a favor from one of his sisters.
Gwayne entered, dressed as a beacon of Hightower strength. The cheers for him were smaller but present. His efforts in the melee were impressive, even if his greatest victory was unfortunately against Lord Manderly's son.
The fights that would follow were, well, not civil by any means. It was still two men in full armor charging another on horseback. But for all the martial savagery of such an event, it was a lot more tame than the fights you had witnessed in King's Landing's last tourney. Even beyond Daemon's behavior, men had been killing each other with wanton abandon during that event. Here, things at least seemed civil for the moment.
Gwayne gave a good showing, but he wasn't able to overcome Ser Merdick. The first two tilts went to the Manderly heir and while Gwayne carried the third, he was still defeated. You could see Alicent's disappointment even from afar.
Next was the Scarlet Spear againt Unwin Peake. And in a matter of minutes the crowd's energy almost completely died. The Mystery knight was clearly nervous, even underneath his armor, hastily painted red lance shaking in his grip, his horse unsteady beneath him. Few in White Harbor had any love for Unwin or any Peake for that matter, though no one was booing yet. It was clear no one expected anything other than a one-sided slaughter.
Then the first tilt came, the Scarlet Spear scoring a solid strike against the heir to Starpike while Unwin's lance missed it's target. The first round went to the Spear. The crowd came alive with cheers for the mystery knight and mocking laughter for Unwin. The second tilt would narrowly go to Unwin, while the third was so close that Lord Manderly would demand they redo it. In the repeat, Unwin nearly knocked the Scarlet knight off the horse and finally secured a victory.
Though it hardly seemed a victory judging by the crowd's mockery and Unwin's frustration as he stormed off his horse and marched towards the mystery knight, removing his helm before they could escape, revealing a rather fresh faced boy of maybe three and ten years of age at most.
The crowd went silent as Lord Manderly shouted something in outrage and Unwin's rage quickly increased. The Scarlet Spear had turned out to be Torrhen Manderly, Medrick's younger brother. Unwin Peake had nearly lost to an actual child. The boy was quickly ushered away from the field as the announcer hurried to get to the next fight.
Forrest Frey would go on to beat 'Long' Derrick, though the later gave a good showing despite his clearly meager means, nearly knocking Forrest off his horse at one point. For a man who's horse looked barely fit to ride, you couldn't help but be impressed. A sentiment Forrest clearly shared as he immediately offered Derrick a chance to serve House Frey at the Twins, which Derrick, after a moment of disbelief, humbly accepted, earning both a lot of praise from the crowds.
The fight between Dustin and Set Redfort would see the first unhorsing of the Joust, with the older Lord knocking Steffon off his horse in the third tilt. Strangely, Redfort let out a joyful cheer as he lay there in the dirt, remarking on how much fun that was.
Well. At the least the man was enjoying himself.
Then it was your bout. The announce called for the mysterious Silver Falcon to face Elmo Tully, an anointed knight and the heir to Riverrun.
You steadied your nerves as you were seated on your horse. You had been preparing yourself for this moment for months. No. For years. Entering a tourney had always been one of your goals. Glory awaited you in victory.
You could see Ser Raylon watching you from beneath his white helm as you made you way onto the field. Elmo looked every bit the glorious heir to a lord paramount as he made his rounds while you cut a more modest figure. The two of you presented yourself before Lord Manderly, bowing before turning towards your respective sides of the field, Elmo giving you a small nod as he did. You stopped suddenly in front of Alicent's seat in the crowd, next to the distinctly empty place where you were supposed to be.
"I apologize, good lady if I've surprised you," you said in a deep voice, "but I fear for my chances without the favor of a charming sight such as yourself."
"My, aren't you the bold one?" Alicent said with practiced amused confusion as her brother looked on in sincere bewilderment.
"I've always believed one needs to be bold to win," you declared.
"True enough. Very well!" Alicent said with a sigh as she tossed her favor onto your lance with a feigned air of indifference. "May you find good fortune ahead."
It seemed Alicent had been doing some training of her own for this event, doing a very good job of hiding her feelings.
You were smiling broadly underneath your helmet as you made your way towards your starting position.
Your heart was pounding within your chest as you made last minute adjustments to your armor and reigns. This was it. Time to see if all that hard training really amounted to anything.
The air was filled with the sounds of drums and the cheering crowd. The drums stopped. That was the signal. You exhaled as you urged your horse forward.
Hoofs pounded the dirt as the horses raced towards each other. Your horse carried you so close to the fencing you worried it might catch your leg, but your focused to keep an iron grip on the Lance, holding close to your side until Ser Tully came into reach. Then you struck, aiming for just below his shoulder.
Ser Elmo's lance would just graze your shoulder while yours would hit true, sending the man tumbling backwards off his horse and onto the ground.
You stared in disbelief at the sight as your brought your horse around, watching as the man struggled to his feet.
"Ser Elmo Tully has been unhorsed!" the announcer declared to the cheering crowds. "The Silver Falcon is the winner!"
You had won. You had won your first match in a single round, knocking a trained knight off his horse with ease. You gave a small bow to the cheering crowd before leaving. Ser Raylon nodded in approval as you passed and you looked back to see an ever so slight smile on Alicent's face.
The others knights preparing for their bouts stared at you as you passed, some nodding in approval, others an unreadable mask, while some seemed to appraising you as a possible foe. You had caught their attention if nothing else.
Following your victory, Borros Baratheon would unseat Alicent's cousin Ormund after three rounds. After that, the Bolton would make up for his embrassing show in the Melee by unseating Pyke in a single round. This would not be as clean as your match though and even from a distance you heard something crunch as Lann tumbled to the ground, followed quickly by the man's screams of pain. The crowd watched in silence as the man had to be carted away, his arm bent at a disturbing angle.
You watched in sympathy, but thankfully, while Raylon had not prepared you for what killing a man would feel like, he had warned you, extensively, about just how many injuries you were risking.
Then came the final match of the round. Your sworn shield was to face Ser Criston Cole.
You were nervous about this fight. In truth, you had hoped to face both of them in time. You couldn't deny that this whole experience left you hungering for glory. You needed to not just win, but win well if this was going to persuade your father.
You knew Ser Raylon would never stain himself by going easy on you, and few things were more glorious then victory over one of the Kingsguard. And Ser Criston was not only the darling of several tourneys already, but he had also beat you in the melee. Defeating him would be grand tale for the minstrels to repeat and it would wipe away any doubt of your skills.
The first two rounds went to Raylon, his lance striking true against Cole. Nearly it had all been over, Cole clinging to his saddle just barely in the second bout. In the third round though, Cole struck Raylon's side, sending your sworn shield tumbling towards the ground.
Ser Criston Cole, the humble son of a steward, could now claim he had unseated a member of the Kingsguard in a joust.
You felt sorrow at seeing Ser Raylon knocked out so soon, and also shame that you couldn't help, but you were overjoyed that you still had a shot at facing Ser Criston.
Winners of the First Round: Unwin Peake, Medrick Manderly, Forrest Frey, Roderick Dustin, The Silver Falcon, Borros Baratheon, Criston Cole, and Rogar Bolton
The next round would be held later that day, giving you just enough time to rest up and wolf down a meal in private. You knew several septas who probably would have fainted from shock had they seen the Crown Princess so greedily devour a whole roasted chicken as you had.
You were set to face Borros Baratheon. Whoever had arranged these things clearly did not want the Mystery Knight to have an easy time of things. All the better, you supposed. More glory to be had.
Of course, while you had gained some attention with your stunning victory over Elmo, you were not the focus on this round. As far as everyone from Lord Manderly to the smallfolk watching was concerned, the most important match of this round would be between Ser Medrick Manderly and Ser Unwin Peake. It was clear even a symbolic victory over the Peakes would mean a lot to the people of White Harbor, while Unwin was clearly eager to make up for the humiliation of nearly losing to a child.
The crowds cheers rose to deafening levels in the first round as Medrick's lance shattered against Peake's armor, though Unwin stayed firmly in his saddle. The two barely slowed down to grab new lances before charging at each other again. This time Medrick missed and Peake's lance struck his shield hard. The Manderly heir seemed to take the strike as an insult more than anything though and kept riding, charging for a third time at even faster pace. Both lances would find their marks in the third round. Peake stayed on his horse. Medrick did not.
The cheers quickly turned to boos as the heir to White Harbor hit the dirt. Food was even thrown at Unwin, but he didn't mind, drinking in the insults like they were sweet wine, relishing the anger on Lord Manderly's face when he was forced to declare Unwin the victor of the bout.
You had taken your leave to find somewhere private to drink something before your match and when you returned, Forrest Frey's match with Lord Dustin was already over. The Frey knight was walking away, in good spirits despite now limping slightly. It had been over rather quickly and Lord Dustin was already riding off to the cheers of the crowd.
Next was Criston Cole's match with the Bolton. Rogar Bolton had proven surprisingly stubborn, refusing to be knocked off his horse, though Cole was easily able to claim victory in all three rounds. His lance had struck true every time.
That left your match with Borros Baratheon as the capstone of the day.
There was no nervous like the first time. You were confident in your abilities. But you also knew this would not be easy. Elmo Tully was a skilled knight for sure, but Borros was more than that. From all the tales you heard, he was the kind of man who lived for nothing but fighting and hunting. A lord to be who considered their most important skills to be how well they held a blade and how effective they were at commanding men. Alicent had gossiped on the way through the Vale about rumors the Baratheon heir could not even read, viewing it as Maesters work that was beneath him.
This man had probably been fighting with lances since he was old enough to ride a horse on his own.
"You did well, boy," Borros said after the two of you presented yourself to Lord Manderly. "Defeating Elmo Tully is something to be proud of. They may even make you a knight when this is done if you aren't one already. But the mystery ends here."
"Thank you, my lord," you nodded as you walked away. "But I've come too far for it to end now."
If you won here, you would face Criston Cole in the semi-finals. Whoever you faced in the final didn't really matter compared to that. If you beat him, you should be able to beat whoever came after him. The other competitors were skilled, that was undeniable, but few had shown talent as clearly as Ser Criston had. With a victory over him, you should be able to convince your father to make you a knight.
But to even get a chance at facing Cole, you first had to beat the warrior before you.
Despite the antlers on his helmet, it felt more like some massive predator was leering at you from across the field. You gripped your lance just tight enough as your other hand held onto the saddle.
The drums stopped and the two of your surged forward. In a matter of moments you were upon each other. You leaned forward as trusted the lance into the Baratheon. It struck him hard in the chest, the lance exploding into a shower of wooden fragments, while his glanced off your shield harmlessly.
Borros hit the ground hard, the antlers on his helm shattering on impact. You looked back to see your aim had been perhaps a bit too true. His armor now carried a massive dent in it and there was blood on the ground as the man grunted in pain. A maester soon rushed to his side as servants prepared a stretcher for the Baratheon heir.
His helmet was pulled away and the good news is there was no blood coming from his mouth, but even from a distance you could see the agony on the man's face.
He'd live. Ser Tarly had often told you unless a man had been stuck in the head, as long as he wasn't bleeding from the mouth and he was screaming, he'd live. But something told you that Borros would be feeling this bout for months to come.
The cheers of the crowd drowned out the man's agony. They were louder than before. It seemed the people were beginning to quite enjoy the Mystery Knight who had somehow laid low two highborn heirs.
You waved to the crowd, but even as you did so, your thoughts turned towards tomorrow and your pending match against Ser Criston Cole. It would be hard to sleep tonight, knowing how much of your fate could change in the day ahead.
Winners of the Second Round: Unwin Peake, Roderick Dustin, The Silver Falcon, Criston Cole.
Borros Baratheon Will Remember This QM's Notes: Ended up dividing the update in two because well, look at how much I've written already. The rolls for these matches had some really interesting moments. For starters, Rhaenyra rolling freakishly well two times in a row. Then you had Unwin nearly losing to the worst fighter in the whole tourney, which was just absolutely hilarious. And Borros Baratheon nearly died. Legitmately, the gulf between Borros and Rhaenyra in terms of what they rolled was so vast and he rolled so low that had he rolled any lower I would have broken out a survival roll. And oh boy would that have been interesting. Couldn't think of anything to have you vote on so enjoy this voteless update.
Don't panic over the Melee. That's not the main feature and Rhaenyra still did incredibly well.
Probably won't get the next part finished by Christmas, so hope you're all having a good holiday season.
Man, I wonder how things would go with Borros if the identity of the Silver Falcon were revealed... It's obvious that he is holding a grudge now, but having the royal heir almost fatally injure the son of a lord paramount wouldn't be good politics.
Awn a little more and my previous joke of Unwin being hilariously knocked off his horse would have been a prophecy. Alas I will take the being almost defeated by an 13 year old.
