The White Lion of Castamere
Chapter I: Exile and Arrival
IV. Three Knights & A Tourney
JAIME
Steel clashing rung out in the courtyard. The roar of soldiers that accompanied it made the whole area unusually effervescent. Jaime had his sword raised, eyeing up the other three men who were likewise in a defensive position. It would be Sers Michael, Jasper, and Vallys, to go in that order. Perhaps switch Vallys and Jasper depending. But he was confident who would be out first- and he knew how.
Jaime shot the most provocable and obdurate member of the knightly trio a toothy smile, and he lowered his sword, and turned his back on the three, raising his hand and inciting the crowd, which responded with renewed hollers and yells. Despite the noise, he heard one of the three yell, "Michael!" and mailed footfalls grow closer.
Quickly sidestepping, he brought his blade in, then struck forward with his left leg and his right arm, driving the tip of his blade directly next to Michael's throat. Seemingly from nowhere, Jaime could hear Ser Harden yell 'out,' and Micahel threw down his blade in disgust.
There was no chance to gloat, as suddenly the other two were upon him- but after all that's why he led with his left, so his body would be open and not closed to their inevitable assault and that he would be prepared to defend. Jasper and Vallys were both a fair-deal more levelheaded than their compatriot, though they had their own differing styles. Jasper was a more traditional, powerful, and frontal attacker, meaning he was harder to handle straight on, but, any assault on his flanks was a severe test of his defensive capabilities. Sadly for Jasper, they were fighting in an open courtyard and not a hallway. As for Vallys, he was probably the most accomplished duelist of the three, being a far more fluid swordsman.
What was important, was Vallys kept leading with his left foot, almost on a cadence. As steel clashing continued to ring out, Jaime realized that Vallys was trying to coordinate his strikes with Jasper, allowing the other man to wear Jaime down with sheer strength while Vallys made sure Jaime was constantly having to change his guard back and forth. The Lord of Castamere had to admit that the attack was successful in backing him up and keeping him on the defensive. What Vallys may have neglected in his fairly sound plan was that he was choreographing his next move ahead of time.
One, two one, two one, two one- and then Jaime struck quickly and suddenly, to the roar of the gathered soldiers. Vallys completely lost his footing, and also had a hard time blocking his lord's strike. The moment the Lannister had bought paid more, however, as he was now standing on Jasper's right side- the knight had actually still stepped forward while Jaime had shot to his right flank.
Surprise lit up Jasper's face, as Jaime flipped his blade and caught the cross-guard to drive the blade in a stabbing motion towards Jasper's throat a la Michael's moments before. Jasper knew the game was up and tossed his sword to the side- but Vallys recovered quickly, attempting a wide, sweeping diagonal slash from his left hip to his right shoulder. Jaime, recognizing he had slightly overextended himself, dropped his right hand from the grip and began to drive the pommel towards Vally's chest with his left hand, while he tried to use his right hand to catch Vally's right wrist.
He had to admit, the move was not only unorthodox, but incredibly risky to the point he could lose a finger or two on his right hand; but that did not stop him from trying.
When Jaime grasped Vally's wrist, both he and the other knight knew the contest was over- and the Lord of Castamere delivered the coup de grace by driving the pommel into Vally's chest plate and sending the knight flat on his back, met with the loudest roar yet.
Some of the soldiers looked despondent, he noticed; they had learned a great lesson in doubting his skill.
He raised his sword in the air, and the men began to cheer once more, as golden stags were changed hands. Jaime walked over and grabbed a soldier's crimson cloak, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Hey wait, he broke a sweat! That shouldn't count!" Someone yelled, causing laughter among those who probably were among the victorious gamblers. Jaime joined in, feeling lighter than usual. The afterglow of a good fight was similar to the feeling after sex with Cersei; soothing and peaceful.
The thought of him and Cersei together again brought up familiar feelings. In that moment he would fight has way to King's Landing if that were possible; actually, now that he thought about it…
"What exactly do you call that last move?"
The crowd of soldiers was lowly going back to resuming their drills, while the three knights were busy trying to reassemble their pride. That meant the voice had to belong to one man- Harden. The elder knight had been one of several that his father had knighted during the Reyne's Rebellion, and had served competently in his father's brief campaign during Robert's Rebellion. If Jaime had even heard of such a lowly knight, it meant he was good at warmaking. Age had rendered him bald, white-bearded, and fat, but there was still strength in his arms and a fire behind his brown eyes. "It's called the pommel-strike. It's a very popular maneuver in Essos, but you would know that if you were a more cultured man, Ser Harden."
The older knight chuckled, standing abreast his liege to examine the new round of drills begin, "I fight wars in Westeros, not the East, my lord."
"Not many of those going on, now a days." Jaime retorted, sheathing his blade and resting his left hand on top of the pommel.
"And we should be thankful for that. The last war was enough for my lifetime." Ser Harden said, his voice lowering as he did. The two stood their for a moment, Jaime's mind floating back to the throne room which now seemed like a different life. 'Burn them all!'
"Jaime?" Harden had a habit of dropping the 'lord', but the Lannister did not mind as long as that did not catch on with the rest of the soon-to-be soldiers.
"Ah, what, Ser Harden?"
"Should I write back that you are not attending?"
"Not attending what?"
"The tourney celebrating the marriage of your sister, the Queen, and King Robert Baratheon."
Jaime tightened his grip on his sword, "I did not know that was something to be celebrated."
Harden shrugged, "He's the king of the Seven Kingdoms, and we haven't had a good tourney since before the war." Itching his bearded chin, "I would say you don't go. I'm assuming that going back to that viper's nest so soon after your, er, departure, isn't smart. Your father might take that as an insult, and that's never a good thing."
"You are probably correct, Ser Harden."
"It's settled then. I'll send the raven."
"No," Jaime smiled, "What am I practicing swordplay here for? To wither away?" Harden shot him a look before he continued, "I just miss the smell of shit and piss that only King's landing can give you."
Ser Harden sighed, shaking his head. "Just when I thought you've learned the dangers of being fool-hardy; look at what happened to Ser Michael."
"Excellent point. I'll take those three 'sers' along with me for practice so they can teach me all about it along the way. Ready horses and supplies."
Jaime began to walk away before, "You can't just up and leave! The construction of the Pickhill road and walls has to be overseen, the taxes accounted for! You have a responsibility to your lands, and the people living here."
"Congratulations Ser Harden, you're the acting regent of Castamere. Keep this up and you might have a keep and young women to run that keep for you soon."
The older night harrumphed in reply.
XX
Jd: Yes, I plan on that sometime in the future; a character from the books and show.
Tom: Thank you for that correction, that's a slip-up.
Thanks DanyelN and Teri!
Albrie II: I plan on addressing that soon. Without trying to give away too much, I look at the situation similarly to how the heirs of kingdoms could also nominally be in charge of territories in the kingdom, a la the Prince of Wales, the Dauphin, etc. Hope that helps.