Funny story. I actually prewrote this chapter and chapters 5 & 6 before I posted chapter 4. I knew I had essays and exams due for my courses and still wanted to post stuff, so I quickly pumped it out while the stress wasn't so high. Like I predicted, I have gotten very little done outside of coursework and am struggling with chapter eight but tomorrow is the last day of tests and deadlines so chapter 8 should be out by christmas.
The morning came as the fifth day of the tourney of Harrenhall commenced. After the archery and melee tournaments had finished on the second day of the tourney, the spirit of competition had been carried on while also focusing on the various attractions that had come for the chance as wealth and prestige. The third day had consisted of an axe-throwing competition and and a massive series of horse races across the grounds of Harrenhall. The fourth day had consisted of a massive tourney of singers, of which Rhaegar Targaryen eventually won, and a truly monumentous mummer's show dedicated to the dynasty of the Targaryens, ending in a rather flattering ode to king Aerys that the king himself seemed most happy with.
As those events and competitions died down however, the true attraction of the tourney began. The first jousts were beginning and already men had stepped forwards to challenge the champions of house Whent who defended the honour of Lord Whent's maiden daughter. Among them was even Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard, who held the chief spot as the greatest of his niece's defenders.
The lists were already full of hedge-knights and young lords, all desperate to impress anyone they could with their valour and skill. Soon afterwards, one of lord Whent's sons had been knocked off of his horse, thinning the champions who defended his daughter. Sitting off to the side, Many of the great lords were waiting as the green boys and common knights weeded themselves out of the running, eliminating each other challenging the lady Whent's defenders or each other in order to earn the rights to claim one of the sixteen champions' pavilions. The great tourney was set so that each man might enter the challenge as many times as there were pavilions to be filled, so that even if he lost against one, he might succeed facing another. Supposedly this meant that only the best of the realm would get the chance to claim any of the seats, as they would have to not only claim them in the first place, but then defend them against every challenger in the tourney.
In the early stages however, when the young or over-eager would rush in what would usually happen was that a knight would challenge a champion, and if the champion was skilled, they might prevail. if they weren't, then they left their spot and it was taken up by the victor. Most of them didn't last that long, as inexperience and sheer exhaustion would eventually defeat them more than the skill of their opponents. That was the reason so many of the great lords and knights were holding back and waiting for the ranks to thin.
As they watched from the sidelines, Tom and Shane saw that the pavilions had already all been taken, and that now they were being challenged again and again. It was a dangerous thing; jousting. Not only did one face the threat of a long pole of wood comming at you at fairly high speeds, but the exertion and heat of such activities being done in full armour meant that many men could pass out or even die from just fatigue or dehydration. Luckily, the tourney was also set in such a way that each champion was given a time to rest after enough rounds, enough at least to cool off and take in some water.
Tom and Shane glanced at each other before they spurred their horses onwards into the lists. Shane approached the champions who had held their seats the longest, while Tom approached one specific pavilion. Taking his lance under his arm, he pointed at the man.
"Ser Whent, I challenge you."
The crowd broke out into mutters, specifically those of high lords. Ser Oswell When was a knight of the kingsguard, and while not the greatest knight in the realm, tourney or otherwise, he was a formidable opponent. Still, to refuse was to surrender his seat, and he had taken to the lists least of all his fellow champions, as few were eager to challenge someone like him.
"Very well Ser Terra, I accept your challenge."
The older man descended into the lists, crossing the field and disappearing into a tent with the Whent sigil on it to retireve his horse and lance. Tom petted the side of his own steed, who was whinnying slightly.
"Easy boy." Tom said, trying to reassure his mount. He could see Shane already taking to the lists against another of the champions, getting himself ready and setting his lance under his armpit.
As Ser Oswell emerged with horse and lance Shane and the other knight began to charge at speed. The two horses rushed towards each other and as they came near enough, Shane struck. With superior speed, strength, fortitude and discipline, Shane's lance struck true and shattered against his opponent's breastplace while his shield intercepted the other knight's own lance. The titanium reinforced shield offered much better structural integrity and easily survived the blow, while the force of Shane's own strike flung the other knight off of his horse and into the dirt.
A cheer when up from the crowd, as Shane's charge slowed to a trot and he rounded the bend. Tom turned back to Ser Oswell, who had by now prepared himself fully and was waiting at the other end of the list.
"Ready?" A judge yelled, holding a cloth. The crowd seemed to still and even the other jousting matches took pause as the knight of the kingsguard faced off against the upstart knight of a newly risen house.
"Begin!"
The two men charged. Tom saw Ser Oswell's form from the polarized slits in his armour and it was impecable. No doubt the man had taken part in many of these competitions. It was almost a shame that he would be facing Tom. Against any normal man he would have had a good chance at victory, but against him or his fellow Spartans, it was almost laughable. His eyes darted over to Lucy up in the stands. She had taken Shane's place with the Vale lords and seemed to be pointing at him. She opened her mouth and Tom could almost hear her voice, soft and slightly raspy from her injury. Perhaps if they weren't on mission he might have picked her for his 'queen of love and beauty'. He could almost picture Lucy rolling her eyes as he dropped the crown of roses in her lap. The thought, the idea, the entire scenario flashed through his head before they'd even gotten half way down the lists and taking the lance firmly under his arm, he readied himself.
As Ser Oswell Whent drew nearer, Tom saw his chance. He leaned forwards in his sadle, offering a closer target but also pushing his lance forwards. He thrust with his lance just a second before Oswell's and with a mighty crash, it shattered against the older man's breastplate. Ser Oswell was sent tumbling from the side of his horse, rolling a little in the dirt as his momentum carried him forwards, though it was slowed by Tom's lance strike. Tom himself reached the end of the list before dismounting his horse and making his way over to Ser Oswell, who was getting up and dusting himself off. The spectators, both noble and common, murmered and whispered as one of the seven greatest knights of the realm was unhorsed on only the first lance, an unheard of occurance.
Tom stopped before the man and offered him a hand.
"Well fought Ser." He offered a formal reply, hoping that he hadn't bruised the man's ego with such a quick defeat. Ser Oswell looked at Tom's offered hand and then at him for a moment before he took it and shook it.
"I wouln't call it much of a fight Ser, but good on you either way." Oswell turned and marched away, likely to take his place defending the king now that he was no longer defending his niece. Tom just watched as the older knight walked away, shrugging slightly as he walked over to where Shane was waiting for him. Together, the two watched as their two new pavilions were cleared out and made ready for them to claim instead.
Rhaegar watched as the two knights of Terra took their places amongst the champions of the tourney. It seemed that Lady Whent's defenders were down to just three of lord Whent's sons, and in time Rhaegar knew they would fall as well. There were too many great knights participating for it to be otherwise. Glancing all around into the spectators' stands for the nobles of Westeros he could see that there were more than a few nobles who were eyeing the two men of house Terra. Rhaegar himself certainly was, but at the same time he listened as the assembled lords talked about the two newest memebers of the champion's ranks.
"Likely never been in a joust before." One knight of the Vale said. "They'll tire themselves out long before it's over."
"Green boys, both of them." A Reach knight seemed to agree. "Strong and fast, like most are, but lacking in experience in such areas."
"And yet, if they're as good at jousting as their fellow was at fighting when he faced all of Dorne, they might just go undefeated." Arthur noted, drawing many an eye. Some of the knights, particularly those of the Reach and Stormlands, rolled their eyes. Rhaegar knew that most of the northern kingdoms thought little of the southernmost kingdom, almost as little as they thought of every kingdom not their own, but none dared gainsay the sword of the morning, who was well known to be one of the most dangerous men alive.
"We'll see then Ser Arthur." Said one of the knights. "Perhaps a bet then, on how long they last in a champion's pavilion?"
Rhaegar turned his attention away from the other men, who were already clamouring to join in and bet on the two knights of Terra's failures. Ser Shane had already recieved his first challenge to his place, though none had yet approached Ser Tom.
The two faced off against each other on one of the lists, readying their lances and charging. It was over in a single tilt. Ser Shane's challenger was send scrambling in the dirt as within moments, and the knight himself was trotting right back to his tent.
Tywin watched as the joust continued on. The first two days had been a show of the young, the inexperienced and the desperate. Young sons of lesser lords or landed knights hoping to earn some attention. Hedge-knight seeking fame and fortune, or more reasonably, a place in some middling lord's retinue. Only a few had managed to gain and retain their placements in the champion's pavilions throughout the first two days. One of lord Whent's sons had kept his position, the last of his family to do so and defend his sister's title of queen of love and beauty.
Knights from various other kingdoms had claimed the other seats. Meanwhile, like the final son of lord Whent, standing tall and undefeated, were the two Spartans. They had seen several challenges early on, though more came for Ser Shane than Ser Tom, likely due to his swift defeat of Ser Oswell Whent of the kingsguard on the first day still being on everyone's minds.
Ambrose had promised him that like the archery and melee the joust would be a striking display of the strength of the Westerlands', and more specifically the Lannisters', new subjects and so far he was not disappointed. Everyone who dared challenge one of the Spartans, from green boys to even a few more skilled knights, fell within a tilt. None so far had required a second lance, and from that fact a reputation was beginning to form. Were it not for the loss of his son and heir to the mad king's foolish antics, Tywin might consider the tourney enjoyable. After all, little pleased him as much as watching his plans come together so perfectly.
"When do you suppose the real competition will begin?" Tywin turned his head and saw Kurt Ambrose, the lord of the Plataea and house Terra looking curiously at the tents where the greatest knights of Westeros were waiting for the competition to thin out.
"Given the display so far." Tywin actually deigned to answer his bannerman's question himself, given just how much Ambrose was bringing to the plot. "Perhaps a day or two more. The sixth day at most is when we will see the end of this farcicle spectacle."
Kurt nodded.
"And if no one unseats lord Whent's last son?" He asked. "He is defending his sister's title isn't he? If he survives this phase of the joust, does the title defer to her by default."
This time is was Kevan who answered one of the lords of Fair Isle.
"Oh no, the champions will still have to face each other in jousts, it is simply a formality to have Ser Whent defending his sister's honour."
"Right, my thanks my lords for enlightening me on the matter." Kurt bowed his head to Tywin and his brother.
Tywin himself could see the older man seated next to Ambrose scowling as he bowed. Likely the man did not like his lord and commander defering to them. Tywin did sometimes wonder why Lord Ambrose did so. Part of him believed that it was merely out of self-preservation. For all the skill of his vaunted Spartans the thousand that he had under his command could not stand up to an army thirty-thousand strong, and that was if only normal forces of the Westerlands joined in. With their gold, and by draining the fields of every man and boy of fighting age, they could field up to fifty-thousand men without having to call in the other kingdoms.
Still, having been to the south of Fair Isle and seeing the massive structure that was the castle-ship Plataea, he had his doubts about the man and his people. He wasn't so foolish to believe that he had their full and unquestionable loyalty. No, he had that of no one save perhaps Kevan, who had been one of his staunchest allies, ever since he had attained the lordship of the Westerlands, and Joanna, who had been his dearest partner and companion before her death. He did however know that there were some things he had that Ambrose and his people wanted; those being influence and protection. He was hand of the king, at least he would be until he had the chance to resign his office. Aerys' latest stunt to humiliate him had killed whatever semblance of responsibility he believed he had to keep his once friend's reign stable.
Moreover, that power and influence was something that the men of Terra needed, and had been willing to trade in exchange for two equally important things, knowledge and a different form of power. House Terra had already begun to share a few of its secrets. Farming practiced had been tested in the last two years as the winter snows had fadded and the cold had lessened. the last harvest, still mild in the waning winter, had yielded nealy half-again as much as it normally would have. Tywin was already making plans for many of the farms in the Westerlands to impliment these new changes and techniques. Not to mention that Ambrose had sworn to provide more advancements of that like in exchange for recognition of their place on Fair Isle. Where they might have been under the thumb of the Farmans of Faircastle when they landed on their shores, Tywin was not about to let one of his lesser bannermen get hold of such powerful vassals. He had instead granted them the lands of southern Fair Isle, even against the words and pleas of the Farmans, and supported them amongst his court in exchange for their deference to him and him alone amongst the lords of the Westerlands.
Tywin was not one for idle fancy, while the Terras were not ones to squander opportunity, and so they soon found themselves a permanent fixture, though it was mostly lord Kurt himself, rather than a representative, who attended. Tywin had quite frankly been impressed that the lord could spend so much of his time at Casterly Rock and still manage his own keep himself, which had led to Kurt revealing and then granting, a gift that had convinced Tywin more than anything else, that he had made the right decision in entertaining him and his people. The small 'radio' as Ambrose called it, had been quite helpful in maintaining control of the Westerlands while he was in Kingslanding. Kevan had been trusted with the other device, which Ambrose had explained to be connected by what he called 'waves of the radio' and so Tywin had been briefed in real time of the events in his castle and kingdom, rather than relying on ravens that took days or weeks to relay messages across the continent.
He watched as another knight, this one wearing the livery of house Frey, challenged Ser Shane, who had only just finished a tilt against another knight, though the knight he had just defeated was of the Vale. The match ended just as the others did, with Ser Shane's challenger lying in the dirt after only a single tilt.
The man made to retreat back to his tent in order to return to his pavilion before he was again challenged. Tywin's neutral expression soured slightly when he saw the sigil on the knight's shield. The Farmans had apparently decided that they would air their grievances with their new neighbours in front of the whole realm. He turned his head to look at the lord of Fair Isle, who was looking down at his man's challenge with a look of approval. However, as soon as his eyes turned over to Tywin, a mix of fear and defiance filled his eyes.
Tywin made a note to himself to enact a suitable punishment on the Farmans if their stupidity cost him his goal. He was in a less than forgiving mood to begin with considering what had happened to his son. His bannermen should have been able to understand that irritating him at this point in time was a less than intelligent idea. There was nothing to be done at the moment though. To openly chastise his bannerman at this point would show the other kingdoms that he, Tywin Lannister, was not in full control of them. The lion lord allowed himself a small feeling of satisfaction as the Farman knight was unhorsed on the next tilt, continuing Ser Shane's undefeated streak.
Tom watched Shane return to his pavilion, the two of them waiting for whoever would be next to challenge them. Already, the day was drawing to a close and already dozens of rounds had already taken place. However, despite that, none of the greater knights or lords had taken to the field. Tom was beginning to wonder whether the two of them should have placed targets on themselves so early in the competition considering that there were still so many young, new and perspective knights still challenging any champion they could for the rights to their pavilion.
"I challenge you." A strange and echoing voice rang out across the lists as a knight in odd, mismatched armour sat their steed in front of the pavilion next to his. Sitting up on top, a knight of house Blount stared down at the strange knight who had issued the challenge.
The man looked down on the mystery knight and laughed. He was joined by many others who saw the outlandish armour of the knight, which looked more like it had been cobbled together from various other suits rather than made together.
"Go home boy." The knight said. "I'll not be blamed for taking the life of some blacksmith's boy who got it in his head he's Duncan the tall."
"Accept my challenge or be known as the craven you are." Was all the reply he received as the mystery knight turned and trotting over to one side of the lists waiting. The Blount knight growled before grabbing his helmet and beckoning his squire to accompany him. Tom watched as soon enough the two were facing off down in the lists. As the herald annouced the beginning of the match, the two knights kicked their horses into charges. The Blount's lance slammed into the mystery knight's shield, while the other knight's lance slammed into the Blount's chest. He was not thrown from his horse, but he was dazed, and as the two retrieved their lances for another pass, Tom felt that the duel was already leading towards a certain outcome.
Lances crashed again, and the Blount knight fell into the dirt as the mystery knight with a laughing weirwood tree shield rode on. Rather than climb to the champion's pavilion they had rightly earned, they instead rode over to another of the pavilions, this time with the livery of a pitchfork on a yellow stripe on a brown background.
"I challenge you Ser." Again, the mystery knight called out. The crowd muttered and roiled at the knight's odd actions, leaving many with perplexed looks. Tom himself was interested, but not truly invested in the drama as the mystery knight of the laughing weirwood defeated the pitchfork knight. The knight's strange actions only continued as they challenged a knight of house Frey, which ended much the same as the others, though the Frey man lasted two more tilts.
The knight ushered their horse into one of the tents as the defeated knights followed after them.
Tom turned away from the strange showing, after all it was none of his business what some mystery competitor did unless they actually came up against him.
There we go, skipping ahead a few days but we're getting right into the meat of the tournament and seeing just how the Spartans fare in a competition that isn't so completely based on pure physical characteristics. They still crush, but it's fun to see just how out of their norm the Spartans are even as they dominate. Rhaegar and Tywin povs for this chapter, and next one we should see Ned others.
I had some problems with the joust setup. We know that there was a set ladder because of the win of Rhaegar and how it was portrayed but we also hear about the knight of the laughing tree challenging knights in champion boxes. I decided to put my own spin on it. there are 16 boxes which any knight can occupy and any knight can challenge for. At the end of the open round, the sixteen champions then duel 1 on 1 until the finals where we have the last joust and the winner there is the winner and gets to name the queen of love an beauty. Hope it makes sense.
Additionally, I've seen a lot of reviews challenging me about the quality of the S-III augmentations and let me tell you. You are wrong. In Ghosts of Onyx, the book that introduced the Spartan IIIs and their augmentations Ackerson specifically says "An improved augmentation regime". Kust himself describes the bioaugmentations as a "quantum leap ahead of those he had received. There were lower projected wash-out rates. There was however, only a fraction of the original SPARTAN program training time and budget."(Those are direct quotes) The augmentations were improved since augmentations are the only area that you literally CANNOT skimp on when it comes to making Spartans. It was the time and money for equipment that was cut. Seriously, before commenting please at least read the wiki, much less the books. I will say that there was a greater range of results due to the loosened genetic criteria but candidates that stuck strictly to Halsey's original requirements for genetics were known to be as good or better than S-IIs. Jun for example is judged by Halsey to be "unmatched" with a sniper, this would include Linda, the best sniper of the S-IIs, and while yes it is somewhat unfair to judge the entire generation by their best members, Tom, Lucy and Saber tean managed to keep up with blue team during the Onyx conflict in inferior equipment so I'm comfortable saying that Spartan III augmentations were better than their predecessors.
Also, to one of the reviewers who understood what I am saying. The reason why the UNSC didn't save Joanna was because she died six years before they would have arrived according to the asoiaf timeline.