Seeds of Change
Ashara walked the tourney grounds in a thick unadorned robe, her hair bound back and covered with a simple shawl. Winter was soon to end, but some of the cold still lingered in the air. No finery marked her person as notable while she watched the people work and the last Houses arrive.
Most of the preparations had been finished already, the viewing stands raised, distances measured and marked, and a racetrack decided on, but the arrival of the numerous guests only meant more work for the grooms, smiths, carpenters, and hundreds of other workers.
Tents and pavilions had to be raised, horses shoed or stabled, armour bought, repaired, or fitted, and tourney lances shaped, inspected, and shelved. There was never a lack of work for smallfolk when a tourney took place and this one was the greatest tourney in a long time.
However, all the work taking place around her did not stop Ashara from paying careful attention to the more important details. Her brother was a member of the Kingsguard, guarding the Blood against any threat, but she served the royal family in a different manner. Well, part of the royal family at least.
Officially, she was one of the many ladies-in-waiting to Princess Elia, experiencing the royal court and assisting the Princess in her daily duties in whatever manner was required. Unofficially, she had taken it upon herself to manage the flow of information that was the fabric of court politics.
During an ordinary tourney she would have restricted herself to learning what she could in polite conversation with the different attendants, preferably when they were already deep in their cups and would not remember much the next day. Seeing as this was by no means an ordinary tourney, the importance of her duties had only increased, and other means had to be employed.
She had not been able to ascertain just how Lord Varys had managed to catch onto their plans but it had ended up serving their purposes regardless. King Aerys had been in decline for years now, a fact not necessarily known to the realm at large. An appearance at this tourney would leave nothing to the imagination.
The prizes had served to attract as many as they had hoped, sigils from all over the Seven Kingdoms being displayed proudly on pavilions, shields, and surcoats. Yet it was the missing sigils she paid the most careful attention to. House Lannister was the expected absence, after the King had so flagrantly insulted his former Hand while attempting and failing to disguise the act as an honour, but there were other Houses that had decided not to attend.
Most prominent among them was the leaping trout of House Tully that could not be seen anywhere. The possibility had been clear to them but there had been some hope that Lord Hoster would still make an appearance, even if he felt slighted. In the end it could not be helped.
There was little more than an hour remaining now until the opening ceremony was held, followed by a great feast in preparation for the start of the competitions the next day. Tomorrow's highlight would be a great seven-sided melee, followed by simpler more varied attractions until the joust started a few days later.
Chelsted, Corbray, Florent, Lydden, the Shield Houses. They were just some of the missing sigils she had already noted. Tourneys always had mixed attendance, depending on location, prizes, and occasion but it had been their hope to draw as many as possible to Harrenhal.
The absence of all the Houses of the Iron Islands was to be expected, and had been accounted for in any case, their disdain for the Seven, knighthood, and what they named Greenlanders a well-known problem.
Seemingly in direct opposition to that absence, there were many sigils from the North, mostly clustered together in the part of the tourney grounds she currently walked.
Stark, Manderly, Mormont, Glover, Dustin, Ryswell. Usually the Houses of the North were as absent as the Ironborn at tourneys. The Old Gods knew no knights, only warriors, and most Houses above the Neck prayed only to weirwoods and not in septs.
This tourney had been opened to warriors without a knighthood to attract more attention from just those Houses, a gamble that seemed to have paid off, even accounting for the increased effort in sorting out who was and was not allowed to compete.
Three Lords Paramount, the heir and a brother to two others, and many, many other Houses both big and small. Considering the circumstances this idea had brought good results.
A commotion ahead attracted her attention, bringing her away from her thoughts on the political opportunity of this tourney.
She was still among Northerners, men in furs and mail mingling in small groups or making final preparations before the official beginning of the tourney, but a sizeable crowd had gathered nearby, surrounding and hiding whatever had drawn their attention.
As she walked closer, Ashara tried her best to give the impression of a common woman attracted to the disturbance. She did not delude herself into thinking that she was a masterful mummer but as long as she did not stand out too much the chances of being discovered were rather low. The Northern presence at court had always been rather minimal if it was present at all.
Seated on cleaned tree stumps were two men, a small barrel serving as a table between them. The bigger man was clearly a Northerner, the sigil of House Glover as distinctive as the thick beard and furs, while the other man could not have looked more different.
Blonde and clean-shaven he was clearly the younger of the two men. Where the Glover was thick and strong the other man was tall and long-limbed and where the Northerner wore furs and a fine red tabard the other wore a yellow brigandine and steel.
It looked to be a meeting between a soldier or sell-sword and a lord, but the two men talked like equals, nonetheless.
"You are serious?" the Glover man asked. Judging by his age and the well-made clothing she thought he was likely Galbart or Robett, the two oldest Glover brothers.
"Very." The blonde man smiled confidently.
Galbart or Robett snorted in amusement. "Very well. I was told you were offering a bargain."
The blonde stranger reached down to his belt and removed one of the two sheaths fastened there. He laid the sheathed dagger on the barrel between them. The sheath was simple leather with very little in terms of decoration and the dagger inside mostly followed that pattern. The hilt was simple and unadorned, dark leather around steel, except for two small gemstones set into the round pommel, one green and one blue.
Ashara could see the confusion she felt reflected on the other faces in the crowd. The gemstones had some value but a dagger in of itself was no great prize.
Before any questions could be asked, he unsheathed the dagger a few inches and a hush travelled through the crowd. The ripples in the dark steel were too distinctive not to be recognised. Daggers of the like were more common than larger weapons, but Valyrian steel of any kind was incredibly valuable.
"I want your spot in the melee. Sadly, I am neither knight nor lord, so my options are limited."
The Glover man was immediately interested, a hint of calculation entering his dark eyes.
"My spot for your dagger, you mean?"
"No," the blonde said. "I was thinking a contest, of your choosing. If I win, I get your spot and if you win, you get my dagger. Easy as that." Ashara debated the man's sanity in her mind. Certainly, there was coin to be gained in a melee, especially this one, with the prizes as lavish as they were, but beating enough competitors to outweigh the dagger he was offering was incredibly unlikely. He would have to win or come very close for that.
"Of my choosing?" Glover asked. "You will regret making that offer soon. I accept. Your dagger for my spot." The two men sealed their agreement by shaking hands.
"What contest will it be then? A race, a duel, archery?" She noted the long package next to him that he glanced at for the last one. That was very obviously an unstrung bow.
The Glover man had other ideas and placed one elbow on the barrel, pushing the dagger slightly to the side so that there was enough room. "No, nothing so long-winded. I will take that dagger right here, right now. We arm-wrestle." He was a broad, strong man, maybe slightly shorter than the blonde, but definitely heavier.
She almost pitied the blonde. The offer had perhaps been well-intentioned but poorly thought out, nonetheless. There was no real question who would win between the two. The other Northerners in the crowd laughed and jeered, as confident in the outcome as the Glover.
In direct opposition to that, the blonde only nodded, even more confident than he had looked before, and shook out his arm before placing his elbow on the barrel as well. One of the onlookers stepped forward to adjudicate but the Glover held up his free hand before they could start.
"I would have your name before I take your possessions."
"Naruto Uzumaki," the blonde man said. The name was clearly foreign, though it did not resemble those from the Free Cities. She could not pinpoint his accent but there was the slightest smoothness to certain syllables that spoke of the far east.
"Not from around here, are you? Well, no matter. A fair bargain is a fair bargain. Robett Glover." He nodded at the standing man that he could begin. The two seated men clasped their right hands, and the judge laid his own on top.
On the count of three the judge raised his hands, starting the struggle between the two men. Muscles strained against each other, but the clasped hands did not move to either side, neither party gaining the upper hand. Robett Glover was the first to change the situation, gripping the side of the barrel with his free hand to brace himself, increasing his leverage. Yet the clasped hands still did not move.
The blonde man, Naruto, continued to wear his easy smile and did not follow suit. Slowly but surely, he started pushing Robett's hand towards the barrel. Where Robett started leaning forward, his breathing strained and his jaw clenched, Naruto remained at ease, his gloved free hand not moving from where it was perched on his leg and his breaths even. The crowd grew louder and louder, some starting to cheer for the blonde stranger while others were shouting at Robett to give it his all.
More and more the Northern noble was being pushed downwards, no matter how much he tried to stop the movements of his arm. The result was inevitable. A few seconds later the back of Robett's hand touched the wood of the barrel and the judge called the bout, declaring a fair victory. A loud cheer went up from the crowd, for a match well fought, no matter the victor.
Both competitors shook out their wrestling arms. For a moment Ashara worried that this would lead to violence. An unknown foreigner beating a noble was the stuff of stories, and the real ones usually did not end as happily as the more celebrated ones, but Robett Glover was a man of his word and did not begrudge his opponent the victory.
"You have the strength of eleven Southerners," Robett said, a broad smile on his face despite the loss. Naruto returned the smile, though he seemed quite obviously confused.
"Eleven?"
"Everyone knows that a Northman is worth ten Southron swords. It seems the same holds true with arms." The jape earned roaring laughter from the Northern crowd, and a more restrained chuckle from Naruto as well. Ashara could not help but grow a small grin herself. The North was a proud, harsh land, and not often involved in the politics of the realm but the people had their own sort of charm.
Judging the situation over, Ashara turned to leave. There were still more things to find out before the tourney began properly and she would have to make herself presentable for the opening ceremony and the feast after.
The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was warm and filled with revelry and music. Men and women drank and ate and talked and danced. At some tables lords and knights shared tales of their latest hunt, or fight, or joust, and at others they bragged about their wives, whores, and cocks. In a few quiet corners more mercantile people shared news and developments that could have an impact on their future wealth.
At first Ashara had intended to refrain from most of the festivities and put herself in a position to continue her efforts from earlier in the day but Elia had quickly commanded otherwise. So she had enjoyed some Dornish Red and started dancing as soon as the floor had been cleared and the musicians began their work.
Oberyn had been her first dance partner, clad in pale red and orange silk, and as graceful to music as he was with a sword or lance.
At one point a betrothal between them had been considered but eventually the idea had been discarded. Before any agreement had been made, his mother had died and then her father's sudden death placed her as her eldest brother's heir until he had children of his own.
When she had joined Elia's service the last remnants of the idea had disappeared, the Daynes already tied to House Martell in friendship. There were better political opportunities for marriage for a Prince of Dorne in any case, though Oberyn's proclivities made that prospect slightly more difficult.
When she had asked him whether he knew about the old arrangement as they twisted and turned to the notes, he had only laughed, and told her that he did not intend to marry any time soon. There were far too many things he had yet to experience for that.
After that her partners had changed a few times, Ser Richard Lonmouth, a former squire and now friend to Rhaegar, who had left her for a drinking game with his liege lord, Ser Jon Connigton, who was an even closer friend to the Prince, and then her brother, clad in the white of his order.
She had always been closest to Arthur of all three of her siblings. Little Allyria was still too young for many things and had only just stopped needing constant attention when Ashara had left Starfall for Elia's service and Alaric had always been weighed down by his title as heir to and now Lord of Starfall without being deemed worthy of being Sword of the Morning.
Even if he had never begrudged Arthur the title it had led to friction between them nonetheless, a relationship that had only become less strained once Arthur had joined the Kingsguard. Distance, her mother had told her once, sometimes turned out to be the best medicine.
They had talked of the earlier ceremony, of little memories from back in Starfall, and of the tourney. As a Kingsguard, Arthur preferred the joust to the melee, though he had oft enjoyed the latter before donning the white cloak.
Forty-nine riders would compete tomorrow, in seven groups with seven men each, until only one competitor remained. They had amused themselves by pointing out the different riders all around the hall. Those with sense enjoyed themselves without indulging too much, while those without placed the moments amusement above their condition tomorrow.
Robert Baratheon looked the Laughing Storm reborn, tall and strong and proud, and had already drunk Ser Richard under the table and was roaring for more when she had pointed him out to Arthur. Her brother had predicted that he would likely not win tomorrow.
When his duty called Arthur away, Ashara had pondered stopping herself, but the heir to Winterfell had stopped her with a secretive smile and a whispered word, leading to another dance for her, though it was the younger Stark she joined hands with.
They both had the same dark hair and grey eyes but that was where the similarities ended between them. Eddard was not as tall or handsome as his brother, lacking the same wild cast to his features, but he was polite and pleasant and solid, in the way of many seconds sons. Compared to his brother's flaming desire his was more subdued, hidden under a layer of stony propriety.
With her future undecided, Ashara could not help her mind wandering in the direction of marriage. Marrying a Stark would not be so terrible a thing. Brandon was betrothed to Hoster Tully's eldest daughter Catelyn, and Ashara had no wish to be bedded and forgotten, but as far as she knew Eddard was not promised to anyone yet. Politically, it would gain Elia and Rhaegar the support of one more of the Seven Kingdoms, if not even more, considering the web of friendships and betrothals.
Robert Baratheon was betrothed to Lyanna Stark and had been a ward of Jon Arryn together with Eddard. With Brandon marrying Catelyn, four of the Seven Kingdoms would be bound in friendship or marriage soon. A strong alliance, though she did not know what the impetus for its creation had been.
They did not talk much as they danced, exchanging only a few words on the tourney and what they knew of the competitions, but she did not overly mind the relative silence between them. When the song ended, they separated with polite bows and she watched Eddard move back to his siblings, where Brandon clapped him on the shoulder before handing him a full cup of wine.
Ashara moved towards her own table, where Elia was talking to her uncle Prince Lewyn, who had been relieved from his duty by Arthur not long ago.
Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she turned to excuse herself from them and any further dancing. She recognized the blonde hair and immediately tried to let nothing of her recognition show. Ashara Dayne, after all, had never met this blonde stranger.
She had been right about his height before, placing him in the same category as her brother or Brandon Stark. So near six feet tall as to make no matter whether it was precisely the case. Ashara was quite tall herself, so the difference was not so great as to create any awkwardness.
He had changed into a yellow and dark orange doublet, paired with dark breeches and boots, his Valyrian steel dagger sheathed at his belt. The quality was no worse than what some landed knights were wearing with the exception of one thing. There was no sigil anywhere to be seen, which supported his words from earlier today, though it opened the question how he had entered the hall. Smallfolk, sellswords, and hedge knights were being hosted in Hunter's Hall.
"Would you honour me with this dance, my lady?" he said, holding out his right hand and bowing his head.
"It would be my pleasure." It did not take much thought on her part to lay her own hand in his and let him lead her back between the other dancers. As the musicians began their next song, they stepped closer together and he placed his left hand on her waist. Even through the pale purple gown she wore the skin was very warm, even more so than his right hand in her own.
He was a handsome man and from a distance his hair colour could have made him pass as a Lannister had he been clad in crimson and gold instead of orange. Now that she was so close to him that option was dashed entirely, his sharp blue eyes a clear contrast to the typical Lannister green. The callouses on his hand spoke of long hours spent practising with a weapon in hand and she felt mail links move slightly under his doublet.
"I must confess, I am a terrible dancer," he said quietly as they swayed and turned to the music, but she disagreed. His movements were relaxed and graceful and even if he did not seem to know the traditional steps she did not fear for her toes. It would not take much practice for him to be an excellent one.
"Is that the reason you armoured yourself for this attempt?"
"Of course. I would never attempt it unprepared." He smiled, easily accepting the friendly jab. Lowering his voice he continued in a conspiratorial whisper, "In truth, with disguises apparently so fashionable here, I feared I had made enemies by not following suit."
Ashara missed a step in surprise but Naruto turned her near stumble into a graceful pirouette before pulling her close again and continuing their dance without issue. She could feel the strength in his arms as he did, the move entirely effortless.
Before she could think of what to say he leaned in close, mischief twinkling in his eyes and his breath warm against her skin. "I will not tell if you would kindly look past my presence here. As you no doubt know, it is not exactly intended."
Laughter bubbled up from within her and she could not help but smile. At least this way she could just ask the questions she had and sate her curiosity.
"Very well," Ashara said as they continued to dance. "If you would be so kind so answer my question then?" Naruto nodded for her to continue and reduced the space between them slightly. She had noticed him steering them closer to the musicians, where overhearing their conversation would be more difficult for others. A clever ploy that made her question his exact motives.
"Why wager your dagger as you did?" If he was not particularly attached to the Valyrian steel he could simply sell it, and make good coin from it as well, probably more than he would ever be able to gain in a tourney melee.
"Why would I not? As you saw there was no chance of losing it." The half-smile he gave her was filled with confidence, suggesting that he really did believe what he said and Ashara could find no fault in it, not after seeing him win so easily. "In any case, I wished to compete tomorrow and saw no other way. I confess, testing my steel against some of the greatest knights does excite me."
"You intend to stand as the winner then?"
Naruto looked at her playfully affronted. "You wound me, my lady. What other intent could I possibly have?" He twirled her around, stopping their conversation for a moment as the music rose to a climax, and then they were close again. Whether his words were some hidden message or not she could not say.
"Intent alone will not be enough I fear, though you are in luck. My brother will not be one of your opponents," Ashara said, throwing a glance towards one of the galleries. Her brother stood at the shoulder of King Aerys, resplendent in white scale. Naruto followed her gaze even as they continued to move to the music.
"Unfortunate, really. Meeting the Sword of the Morning with steel would no doubt be very fulfilling."
"Arthur can be quite protective, if you continue as you have, he may just pay you a visit." It was a deliberate exaggeration. Arthur could be protective but this was just some harmless dancing at a feast. He had never been one to act rashly.
"I thank you for the warning, my lady. I shall sleep with one eye open and avoid every flying gauntlet I encounter from now on." Ashara had to chuckle again, keenly aware that she was enjoying herself and his presence quite a bit.
"There is no need to limit your rest so. Arthur would challenge you out in the open," she said, smiling. All this dancing and talking made her wish for some wine, but she was loath to interrupt the moment. In the end the decision was taken out of her hands.
With a final few notes, the song and their dance drew to a close and they bowed apart. Ashara already missed the warmth of his hands, even if that was clearly absurd. She barely knew him after all.
"You were far from terrible," she said, in an attempt to keep their conversation going. Among the crowd of dancers, he had been able to pass unnoticed but if he sat down he would no doubt be found out quickly.
"Then I will hope to exceed your expectations tomorrow as well." Once more he was all confidence. As he turned to leave Ashara found her hand moving to the small ribbon of silk she and many other noble ladies carried with them for a tourney. Perhaps she was being foolish, imparting hers on a low-born foreign warrior who had not been able to enter the tournament conventionally, but she felt like doing so all the same. Elia had said to take the opportunity to enjoy herself.
"A moment." Quick fingers unbound the purple silk embroidered in silver with the sword and star of House Dayne and moved to attach it to his right arm. She worked quickly and avoided his eyes, suddenly feeling surprisingly embarrassed.
When she was finished, Ashara stepped back again and met his gaze. "So that you remember. To exceed them."
Naruto's smile was quieter now, less blindingly confident and more hard-earned surety, and Ashara felt her heart beating quickly, on account of all the dancing. His left hand hovered over the ribbon for a moment, and she noted the furious dark red burn scars scattered over his wrist and the back of his hand.
"I promise to."
Ashara watched him turn away and then quickly disappear in the crowd, her eyes unable to keep track of him.
"Naroto Usu-maki, freerider in the service of House Glover."
The herald butchered his name, but Ashara had no trouble recognising him nonetheless, his distinctive blonde hair being moved by a stray morning breeze. He rode forward on a brown gelding, clad in his yellow brigandine and her favour bound around his right arm, and presented himself to the king and crowd.
Steel covered his arms and legs along the bones and a plate gorget protected his neck, but it was quite clear that compared to the other competitors, all in full suits of plate of differing qualities, he was the least protected.
"He is your mystery warrior then?" Larra Blackmont asked quietly. Ashara had not been able to hide the fact that she had given her favour to someone when the topic had been discussed among the other ladies-in-waiting to Princess Elia after the festivities had ended yesterday. She had suffered their questions, as they would have from her, until they were satisfied. Larra especially had been desperate for a look at the man. "Well, he is handsome enough, but I question his chances."
Ashara was loath to admit that she had doubts as well, not before seeing any actual fighting, but she could see where Larra was coming from. Even from where they were sitting in the gallery it was plain to see that his horse was not only smaller but a rather docile creature besides, a stark contrast to the mean warhorses of the other fighters.
The first few rounds would be dominated by landed knights and lesser lords, with the most prestigious competitors avoiding one round of the format. A function of their position and the unfortunate reality of having seven teams compete against each other. In addition, there were competitors that were sitting on the sidelines for now, ready to replace those warriors that had been eliminated through injury, yielding, or even death in one of the earlier rounds.
When the fighters of both sides had arranged themselves on the field, grooms stepped forward and presented each of them with a blunted long axe.
Lord Whent had declared a melee in the ancient style, a test of true martial prowess regardless of preference, and so the weapons for the duration of the round had been decided by the host. Every competitor was equipped with a dagger as well, to make a stubborn opponent yield if necessary, but besides that they were permitted no other weapons.
Naruto accepted the handle of sturdy ash and exchanged a few quiet words with the young man, words that were clearly surprising to their recipient. Instead of stepping back like the others were doing he remained close at hand after Naruto answered his question with a placating wave of the hand.
Ashara could see him test the feel and weight of the weapon he had been given before bracing it against his shoulder. He was not the only one to take a moment to familiarize himself with his armaments, many of the competitors mirroring his actions, though she could see at least three satisfied expressions among them. Most likely men who would have chosen to arm themselves this way in any other situation as well.
The hundred yards separating both sides meant little to the spirited destriers. Even carrying a fully armoured warrior they would cross the distance to meet their opposite half-way in seconds.
Everything prepared, the master of the games signalled for the bout to begin. A horn sounded and the horses rushed across the field. All except one. Instead of spurring his mount into a gallop Naruto threw his reins down to the groom and vaulted off his mount and into a run, the handle of his axe held in one hand and braced against his left shoulder.
Was he a madman? Had all the confidence and humour and interest he had displayed yesterday just been an elaborate act, a ruse disguising his true nature? Had she been played for a fool, helped along by the wine?
His open-faced half-helm did not hide his face as the great helms and visored bascinets of the other riders did and for a moment, he looked in her direction and met her eyes. There was no deceit there, no regret or madness, only the confidence and sharp clarity she remembered seeing in his eyes before. Whatever doubts had been forming in her mind evaporated like water in the Dornish Desert. Maybe she was just being foolish, but she chose to believe in him all the same.
The crowd had barely even been able to start their hollers and jeers when it became clear that Naruto was incredibly fast on foot. Certainly, there was a gap between him and the riders, a result of not starting at the same moment, but it was not large.
Hooves thundered over the field and the riders met with a crash of steel on steel as blunted axe blades impacted plate harnesses. Naruto's opponent was Ser Leowald, a landed knight from the Reach with a blue flame on a green field as his device, who was quickly closing in on him.
A particularly chivalrous knight may choose to level the playing field in the course of a tourney, but Ashara was unsure if there had ever been a single one that would even out a self-inflicted disadvantage. Ser Leowald did not either, ready to move his axe in a devastating swing as he rode past his opponent.
Ashara had to consciously keep her hands from fisting in her dress as she watched Naruto come closer and closer to his opponent. Ser Leowald was coming towards him on his right, long axe ready. Even if the edge had been blunted, a swing powered by the charge of a warhorse held incredible force.
In the last moment Naruto twisted around, barely avoiding the horse's legs, and allowing him to dodge the swing, the movement putting him on the other side of his opponent.
He jumped and twisted around, his own axe hitting the slightly unbalanced Ser Leowald in the side of the helmet, denting the steel with a crunch. The move had been too unconventional to anticipate and too quick to defend against so it was no wonder that the Reachman was thrown from his saddle.
Naruto landed on his feet and shouldered the axe again, a wild grin on his face. He really was enjoying himself.
I hope you enjoyed chapter 21, and the first of this part of the story. Chapter 22 is done, and the longest one yet, and I'm already working on 23.
Ashara Dayne is our first new PoV, but there will be others as well. Elia married Rhaegar the previous year at 23/24 so I don't think her ladies-in-waiting being a bit older as well is any problem. In this story Ashara is around seventeen at the moment.
Robert's Rebellion and the surrounding events are quite interesting, because we know surprisingly little about what exactly occured. There are five/six sources for the events: Ned's memories, Howland's story that Meera tells Bran, Jaime's introduction into the Kingsguard, Barristan's vague recollection, the Maester's account in the world book, and snippets like Dany's vision.
Perhaps this was just something I encountered but the timeline during those events is also very different than the way it seems. You can easily come away with the understanding that the tourney at Harrenhal was weeks before Lyanna gets abducted/taken by Rhaegar, but to make the births of Rhaenys and Aegon work, the tourney has to happen somewhere around March/April of 281(we left off around October/November of 280 in chapter 20), and Lyanna gets abducted in the first weeks of 282. Analysing the timeline makes a lot of parentage theories impossible by the way. Brandon as father to whoever in canon? Definitely out. Then again George has a bit of a weakness when it comes to numbers.
Ashara is not trained in espionage, and I tried to show that in her conversation with Naruto. She does not ask his name, because she knows it already, though she should to keep up appearances. She also does not catch onto the other hint Naruto drops. Disguises being fashionable probably means that someone else but her is also running around in one. Of course, this does not make her stupid, but simply untrained and unused to that world. Shiera and Naruto are both very abnormal in their knowledge and abilities and Ashara is more ordinary in that regard, for now.
Brigandine is made up of small steel plates riveted together, with either one layer of heavy cloth on the outside or a layer on both sides. A real breastplate is more resistant, but also rigid, which would impact Naruto far more than any ordinary person. Plate armour is heavy, around 30-50 pounds, depending on thickness, size, and time period, but the weight is well distributed, so you can move quite well in it. Naruto's main concern is fitting in while also not obstructing himself, but that will be the topic in the next chapter, so I won't say too much more here.
A tourney melee was the closest thing to actual war that could occur without declaring one. Sometimes there were hundreds of men on both sides, with leaders and actual troop movements to beat the other team, but that isn't the case in the tourney we have actual accounts for in ASoIaF. George also makes the joust more popular in his world.
Harrenhal had a "seven-sided melee in the ancient style" which is a non-statement if I have ever seen one. I interpreted that to mean seven "teams" competing against in each other in a modern tournament tree. Seven big groups clashing all at the same time would probably be incredibly boring to watch. You might as well just make it a free-for-all. "Ancient style" could similarly mean almost everything, but the Trial of Seven is old Andal tradition, and is a fitting parallel in my view. Everyone using the same weapons is a product of the fact that judicial trials in the real world used the same type of arms on both sides. A Trial of Seven should be the same, and so this inspired melee is as well. But those are just my thoughts laid out.
There will be a lot more characters now, obviously, and we'll dive into court politics more directly. My personal takes on the many fan theories are probably rather ordinary, but I will try my best to keep things interesting and different in the details, if not the broader context.
We'll probably spend about four chapter in Harrenhal, if my current plan holds. This part of the story will stretch the Rebellion and its immediate aftermath before we move into part three.
As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. Until next week.
