Chapter 4

Tourney of the Hand

King's Landing

Trouble had beset the King's court as it returned to the capitol. A split had occurred between the Lannister's and Starks over some incident with a dire wolf that the Starks kept as pets. Roland and his party had participated in the search for Arya Stark all while grumbling about how foolish it had been to even attempt to keep a dire wolf as a pet. Roland had not seen the confrontation later that night in the King's tent between the two families, but he could not imagine why the Starks were not simply apologizing for the incident and moving on. Roland had seen a dire wolf once upon a mountain in the Vale. The glade he had been scouting as a camp had turned deathly still as the hulking beast prowled. Even the birds held their breath at the passing of the hulking monster and Roland still shuddered at the memory of the thing. It had been a creature from his nightmares, nearly the size of a pony. The Stark's pets were young and smaller than that but still, it was a very lucky thing Prince Joffrey had survived. Both to mend the rift between two important families and to celebrate the ascension of his friend to Hand of the King, King Robert had declared that there was to be a grand tourney upon returning to the capitol. Ravens with invitations were sent out long before the Royal court arrived.

King's Landing was overwhelming. Roland had never seen so many people. He had been warned about the smell. It seemed as if nobody could describe the city by anything other than the smell so he ignored it as best as he could while absorbing the cities. Many of the streets twisted and turned endlessly reminding him more of a rat warren than his native Gull Town. They managed to traverse the maze of a city without incident though and shortly arrived at the Red Keep. It was an impressive structure that advertised wealth and power as much through the vast empty spaces of its courtyards and stables in such a crowded city as it did through its adornments and craftmanship. Dozens of courtiers met the noble parties following the King to guide them to their respective accommodations with a speed and forceful efficiency that Roland could respect and appreciate. He was very surprised that his family had accepted the invitation to the tourney and arrived before him. Roland knew a ship from Gull Town was quicker than the ponderous royal party could be on land but his family must have left the Vale mere days after receiving the letter.

Roland thanked the seven that he had some progress to report on his marital mission as he allowed a retainer in the King's colors to lead him to the rooms his family had occupied. The suite the Royce's had been provided were large and luxurious as befitted a family of their stature, or rather a lord of his father's stature. Roland could not help but compare the accommodation his father rated to the Inn he had stayed in outside Winterfell's walls with some amount of bitterness. That thought soon faded as a large and dark-haired missile struck his chest with an impact that nearly toppled him as he stepped through the threshold.

"Roland!" Ysilla yelled happily as she squeezed him in her loving embrace.

"I am glad to see you too!" Roland said warmly as he regained his balance and returned the hug. "How are you? I trust the journey was not too unpleasant?"

Ysilla scoffed at him. "It was nothing, little different than a pleasure cruise on the our yacht." Roland could hear the distress hidden behind her bravado and guessed the passing had been harder than described. "But you, you have ridden from one end of the Seven Kingdoms to another. You have been on the road for months!" She sniffed his chest dramatically and then shook her head even more dramatically. "And you smell like it. I am sure you have had adventures, you must tell me all about them."

"Yes" Lord Royce said as he entered the room and joined the conversation. "We have much to discuss, especially concerning the letters I have received from Lord Forrester. The servants have laid out a lunch for us on the balcony. Both the pork and the vegetables are grilled with some sort of sauce I am told and the beer is cold."

Ysilla gave him a look that was both knowing and excited. "Yes, we must talk all about the letters daddy has received." She let go of Roland and motioned for him to follow. The balcony had a gorgeous view overlooking blackwater bay and there was a table set with fine silver and crystal with a tray in the center of it loaded with pork ribs and grilled onions and peppers/

The food was even better than promised and satiated Roland's rumbling stomach. The sauce was vinegar based by the taste of it and was nothing like he had ever experienced. He began shoveling food into his mouth as his father spoke. "I was pleased to receive a letter from Lord Forrester. He seems impressed by your work saving the Stark boy and open to a match. I am even more pleased that you seem to have finally found an appropriate lady. I do not know the Forrester's personally but I had the maester consult the genealogies. They are an old house, one of the oldest in fact. They are not the most powerful house in the North but they have a history of being cunning survivors. They are also excellent stewards of their ironwood forests, their fortune is small but secure and well managed with no real threat that it might be thrown away by a careless generation."

"And I hear Lady Mira is very pretty" Ysilla said, romance tinting her voice.

Lord Royce waved his hand dismissively. "Irrelevant, she has good blood, the right name and her family will make excellent economic allies to ours. It is clear that we would be bringing more military might into this union, that concerns me a little given what I have heard about the feud they seem to have with their neighbors, but I am confident this can work to our advantage." Lord Royce smiled warmly at his youngest son. "Well done."

Roland's heart nearly stopped at the sight of his father's smile. So many years of being a disappointment, or at best tolerated, had nearly made him forget the feeling. "Well…um…There is still the question of land. Lord Forrester seemed to see it as a barrier that I would not be inheriting any, has he changed his mind?"

"No, and he is as loath to split any his land as I am for fear of losing the family's monopoly on the ironwood trade." Lord Royce said. "He did however pose suggestion I had not considered. Lady Mira comes with a considerable dowry, and we are not impoverished by any means. I have begun to search for land that we could purchase to settle the two of you on. Arable land in the Vale is so sought after that I had honestly dismissed the idea of purchasing land for you years ago, were we to find someone desperate to pay his debts enough to sell land beyond the Vale, in the Riverlands perhaps, that could be an option."

Disappointment and hope hit Roland in equal measure. "All the while she is in the Reach with the Tyrell's. If they discover we are hoping to make a match after they took her in and promised to find her one they may marry her to the first person who looks at her just to retain control of her."

"They may" Lord Royce conceded. "But not without Lord Forrester's approval they can't, and I am capable of being discrete my son. They need not know about this. In the meantime we will continue looking for alternatives should this not succeed. Everyone of means is here for the tourney. We must discuss which competitions you will be competing in so you may represent the house well. I took the liberty of commissioning a new set of armor for you here in King's Landing the day after we arrived. You are full grown now, or close to it. It is time for you to have armor that befits your station, not battered leathers handed down from your older brothers."

Tourney of the Hand

Steel flashed in the summer sun like a bolt of lightning as Roland brought his greatsword crashing down upon the man closest to him, a Crakehall by the coat of arms on his shield. Roland had no illusions of winning the melee against the likes of Loras Tyrell or Jaime Lannister and had elected the giant blade to have a better chance of being noticed by the crowd in the swirling storm of steel and broken bones. And because it was fun Roland could admit to himself. The man from Crakehall was sent spinning by the impact of the strike and Roland was distracted by the amusing image of a dancer on her tiptoes overlayed on his victim. The distraction cost him as sword strike struck him from just outside his field of view.

His new armor was finely wrought half plate with leather underneath as well as a helmet that covered far more of his vision than he was used to. That was disorienting and it put him at a disadvantage even as he marveled at how little he had felt the blow. He rapidly stepped back to gain space and put eyes on his new foe. It was a Redwyne by the crest on the giant kite shield that protected the man's whole torso. Roland tried to aim low but struck only the shield, the Redwyne man barely had to move it to protect his legs and the attempt left Roland open to a counterstrike that left his head wringing as his helmet sang like a bell from the blow. Roland could taste blood from a split lip and that helped focus him and keep his vision from spinning. Next he tried to hook the shield and pull it away, that failed again leading to another sword strike that bounced off his chest. Growing frustrated Roland threw away any pretense at skill or fair play. With all his might Roland slammed the greatsword directly into the shield forcing his foe to stagger back. Roland pursued and targeted the shield again then again not allowing Redwyne to recover. On the fifth blow he heard a sickening crack and a shrill scream as the Redwyne's arm broke and he fell over in pain.

Roland looked up from the fallen man for his next opponent. He was delighted to see Loras Tyrell looking straight at him from a few meters away. If he had to lose eventually, there was nobody he would gain more attention from losing to. He raised his greatsword in to a high guard hoping to use gravity and its weight to his advantage. As he took a step to advance towards Loras though he felt something from behind hook onto his blade and rip it out of his hands. He nearly fell backwards with the blade but managed to stay upright. A man in full plate with a mace faced him, two swans were on his chest but Roland did not recognize the crest. "Do you yield?" the knight demanded. Enraged at being denied his chance to face Loras Tyrell Roland answered with an armored fist directly into the knights helmet. A spike of pain ran up Roland's entire arm from the impact but the night was worse off, staggering back as he spat blood through his visor. Roland steeled himself to advance only to find himself attacked from behind again. This time he was swept off his feet and was finally out of the fight.

The next day, still weakened from his injuries Roland was unhorsed by his first opponent in the joust. Sandor Clegane was a skilled horseman and fresh having skipped the melee. Despite how much his pride stung from admitting it, there really hadn't been a contest. Instead he was free to change and bathe and join his family in the stands later to enjoy the final rounds of the joust. Roland roared and cheered sitting in between his father and his sister as the knights clashed on horseback. It occurred to him that this was the most relaxed he had been around his father in as long as he could remember. He and Ysilla made a game out of identifying members of high society in the stands opposite of them and their father corrected them with good humor when they got a name wrong.

"You've already met everyone in the royal box during your travels, that isn't fair. Let me try!" Ysilla demanded.

"Fine" Roland conceded. "Do you see the Hand of the King?"

"Yes"

"Which of the Kings guard is standing over him?"

Ysilla racked her brain. "Ser Blunt. I think, that's not fair though. It's hard to tell them apart in their identical armor at this distance."

"Fine" Roland said. "You were right by the way. Who is that sitting behind the Hand and talking to him?"

Ysilla struggled with that one as well. "He looks familiar, I can't see any obvious heraldry on his clothes though, have we met him before."

"You have" Lord Royce said. "Years ago when he still lived in the Vale. God's be good you will never have to meet him again. That is Lord Baelish, the Master of Coin. He is a whoremonger and yet I have never met a man so skilled at gaining the ear of his betters. Why Lord Arryn put up with him, let alone elevated him to such a position I will never understand."

Roland could see Lord Baelish leaning over Lord Stark's shoulder and pointing at something off to the side and Lord Stark turned to look in that direction.

"-Facing him shall be Ser Hughe of the Vale in his first joust as a knight!" The announcer declared introducing who would be facing the infamous Mountain That Rides in the next tilt. Roland realized it was Ser Hughe that Lord Baelish had been pointing at.

"Hughe, isn't that Lord Arryn's squire?" Ysilla asked. "Or was I suppose."

"Yes" Lord Royce's brow was furrowed as he watched the young knight saunter up to the field. "You are correct."

Years of experience reading his father's moods put Roland on alert. The tone of the words was neutral but Lord Royce did not even try to hide the suspicion written clear upon his face. "Why the sudden mood change?" Roland wondered. He followed his fathers gaze and reexamined Ser Hughe. The knight was resplendent in armor that nearly blinded the audience as the sun reflected off of its polished surface and the sapphires that fastened his deep blue cloak to his armor. The armor was full plate of clearly superior craftsmanship. His horse too was covered in armor of equal craftsmanship. Roland felt a pang of jealousy, the knight equipped far more richly than he had been. Jealously instantly flipped to suspicion that matched his father's. Roland was of the second house of the Vale and this hedge knight without a patron was wearing far more expensive and ostentatious armor. "It appears Lord Arryn was a generous patron; he must have left a great deal of money to Ser Hughe." Roland said suspiciously.

"Yes" Lord Royce said without an ounce of sincerity. "It appears that way. And Lady Lysa was most generous to arrange a knighthood for him in the scant hours between her husband's death and her journey back to the Vale."

Roland turned his eyes back to the Lords Baelish and Stark trying to puzzle out why they had been interested in the young knight. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed the joust begin. It was not an interesting contest anyway, there was no doubt that Ser Gregor Clegane would utterly defeat Ser Hughe. Because of that he missed the sickening moment of Ser Hughe's death as he was speared by the broken lance. Instead, Roland saw the shocked and disgusted reactions of the crowd before his eyes turned to the corpse gushing blood onto the hard packed dirt. As he looked upon the mangled wreck of Ser Hughe, Roland felt the same cold and dissociative feeling come over him that he had felt when his fellow climber had died upon the Giant's Lance. As if he was detached in some way from his body and the events going on around him.

He replayed the moment of Ser Hughe's death in his mind over and over as squires came out to remove the corpse and soak up the blood with sand. There had been a moment, just a flash of a moment where Lord Baelish had smiled before mimicking the horror of those around him. It had been so swift in the chaotic moment that Roland struggled with whether he had actually seen it or it had been imagined.

"Does Ser Hughe have any family?" Roland asked his father, his voice almost as cold and detached as he felt on the inside. "Certainly, none here in King's Landing I would assume."

Ysilla seemed to notice the tone of his voice and looked curious but said nothing.

"No, not here." Lord Royce said. "It would be appropriate for us to take care of his remains and possessions as the senior family from the Vale here today." His tone made it clear that he was of one mind with his son. "I know you are excited to see the rest of the jousts, but I need you to go down there and see to it that he is cared for."

Roland nodded in agreement and moved rapidly through the chaotic crowd in the stands, pushing bodies out of the way as he needed. He grabbed Arnold Coldwater from his space further down the stands as well as two of his father's retainers on the way to the arming chamber the body had been removed to. There was no resistance to Roland taking responsibility for the dead Knight once he identified to the King's men who he was and in moments he was alone in the chamber with the corpse as he sent Arnold and the retainers to gather Ser Hughe's possessions.

The chamber was small and cold despite the summer heat and Ser Hughe's corpse occupied much of it. There was sparse accommodation but a sturdy looking table with jugs filled with wine and water on one side caught Roland's eye. Roland grabbed a jug of water and washed the blood off of the body as much as he could. The wound had been in an artery so thankfully the body had already emptied itself out for the most part, still he took his shirt off so as to not ruin it with whatever blood was still yet to come out before clearing the rest of the jugs. A man in full plate was abominably heavy but Roland was very strong from climbing all his life. With great effort Roland managed to roll the corpse onto his shoulders to transfer onto the table. Again he picked up the jug and used it to wash the blood off his shoulder and back before putting his shirt back on.

The armor did not resist Roland's efforts to remove it. It was well made and too new to be rusted. On closer inspection the plate seemed to be even finer than Roland had suspected. The sapphire fasteners were fine cut gems and quite large. He also noticed that the armor bore the same craftsman's mark as the set his father had commissioned for Roland to wear in the tournament. That was a pleasant surprise. He could easily ask his father how much his armor cost and add perhaps another quarter or third to the price to estimate how much this had cost Ser Hughe.

"Truly a tragedy" A voice said behind Roland. "To have a promising young life struck down just as he began to find success."

Roland whipped around to see Baelish standing in the doorway. He was finely dressed, and had an extremely collected composure. When he moved to step towards Roland it was with the grace of a dancer and every word seemed individually plotted out. "I knew poor Ser Hughe, there are so few of us men of the Vale here in the capitol that I take a great interest in the fortunes of my brethren. I know of you too though I believe we never had the chance to formally meet. My own fortunes took me away from the Vale before I could spend much time with your family personally."

Roland sighed "It is a tragedy, I truly did not know he was still in the capitol. Almost everyone from the Vale returned home with Lysa Arryn upon Lord Arryn's death. Most of the Valemen of note here now either accompanied me to the North or my father. Had we known to keep track of him…" Roland disabused himself of that notion. "He would still be dead, I suppose it would have changed nothing. Accidents happen."

Baelish was close then, having closed the distance between the door and Roland. "A double tragedy then, to be forgotten as well as to die. I had thought to see to his remains, I took the liberty of sending for the Silent Sisters. I hope I did not overstep my bounds?"

Roland looked at him curiously. "How could sending for the Silent Sisters be overstepping your bounds? I was just about to do the same thing."

Baelish gave a small bow. "My position as Master of Coin gives me some small influence over the day to day workings of the realm but my house is a small one from the fingers. I would not dare to tell a Royce how business should be conducted. You are second only to the Arryn's after all, and the Arryn's have been particularly scarce in these parts recently."

Roland could admit that he felt a little flattered by that. "I think you are selling yourself short Lord Baelish. Your talent has put you in a position far greater than I could ever hope to attain. I am just glad someone is still representing our interests to the King."

Baelish seemed to receive the flattery in kind. "You are far too kind. Now that I know the boy is in good hands I shall return to the King's side. Please do not hesitate to inform me if I can be of any assistance during your stay in the capitol." With that he turned and left Roland to wait with the body until the Silent Sisters came as he considered again whether he had truly seen the man smile at tragedy earlier.

Shortly after Arnold came in with Ser Hughe's possessions. Much of it was ordinary, the kinds of tools and trinkets one would be expected to carry. His money pouch was ostentatiously fat however. Really the man had been stupid to carry so much of his wealth with him. Unless this had been a paltry sum to him. Roland paused at that, how wealthy could the young knight be. Roland dumped the coin pouch onto the table next to the body and saw far more gold dragons than anything else fall out. A flash of sapphire and silver caught his eye. A signet ring of house Arryn was among the coins.

Anger rose within Roland. Ser Hughe was thief, how could he have dared to steal a Lord Paramount's ring like that. How could he think that would not be noticed? That thought stopped his anger in its tracks. How could this not have been noticed. Jon Arryn died months ago, there was no world in which Lady Lysa Arryn could have noticed its disappearance. Had she simply ignored the theft in her rush to run to the Vale that night? Or did Ser Hughe really have a reason to think it was safe for him to posses the ring. No possibility he could think of brought him comfort. "Well, shit." Roland said his mind twisted with questions.