Chapter 20

Mountain of a Melee

Year of the Realm 874/312 AC

"So, remind me again why it is that I have to partake in this tourney?"

"Because, Cid, we are short a man with Rex investigating the city."

Hunter considered himself a smart man when it came to battle and figuring out his opponents. He knew he wasn't what Cody would call a strategist on a grander scale but if you put him in a position of command with only a few men to worry about he could do great things. Maybe that was why he was chosen to be the third man to enter the melee with Clive and Cid? Rex couldn't do it; he was investigating something important from the past here in the city. Wrecker was out on the grounds with Colt keeping an eye on Goetz as the trader went about making trade-deals for some old woman named Charon. Whoever she was, she kept Clive on his toes it seems. Cody and Thorn had the duty of watching the royals while the little lady Jote had both wolves by her side. That left Hunter as the odd man out, the poor soul that had to witness firsthand just how Clive and Cid were before a fight.

"Should've just kept him here," Cid says with a shake of his head "Poor man could do with a good fight, better that than watching his body go soft looking for clues."

"And I had told him that, but it was his own suggestion that he do this now while everyone else is focused on the melee." Clive sighs "Now look, we are only doing this as a formality, not for glory or gold purses."

"Speak for yourself," the sellsword says as he draws his daggers "Purse alone will be more than enough dragons for the victor and the runner-up. Until I take my vows, until you let me anyway…I will do as I please but be loyal to you and yours. Just as promised."

Clive ignores the smug look Cid gives him "Very well Hunter, but we are not out here to kill anyone."

"Of course, accidents do happen, and should any accident happen then we cannot be held responsible for it happening in the first place." The look Clive gave Cid was downright murderous, the flames behind his eyes were much more concerning as Hunter was the only witness present not in the loop just yet. "That said…perhaps Clive is right, and we do need to use caution."

"Subtle as ever Cid."

Up in the royal box, Robert was growing almost giddy with anticipation. While his chair sat beside his Queen, Cersei's, there was room behind and beside for all those of importance to the realm. His children were seated beside their parents, Tommen by Cersei's side with Myrcella beside Robert which left Joffrey to take a seat by Lady Warrick's side. Now there was a woman…poor lad didn't know just how outclassed he was as he no doubt attempted to impress her. Robert would have tried the same in his younger years, would have succeeded too with any southern woman, but he never would have gotten far with her. Lyanna was a woman who wouldn't have accepted his attempts to court her easily, a challenge and a rare beauty all in one. In fact, she wasn't too dissimilar to Lady Warrick.

"Just about time now Ser Barristan?"

Barristan the Bold stood by his king's side, donned in his white plate armor with his longsword in its scabbard, he was ready for any threat to his liege. "Almost your grace, a few of the men have yet to enter the ring."

"Yourself included among the number?" There was a gleam in Robert's eye. He had been talked out of partaking in the tourney due to his status as King but that didn't mean he wouldn't bet on one of his men to do him justice and win. "I'm sure those Rosarian lads would be more entertained fighting you than one of our regular knights."

Barristan gives a soft chuckle "Aye…I look forward to engaging that First Shield of theirs in combat. Shame they wont all be partaking in the melee."

"Bah! They have no desire to joust or for the archery competition…but the melee…do you know which of them did sign up for it?"

"Only that the First Shield, Clive Rosfield, had signed up." Barristan's gaze sweeps across the box towards the back where Joshua Rosfield and Jill Warrick sat with the rest of their party and the young Prince Joffrey. "If I had to hazard a guess, Ser Rex and that sellsword they picked up, Hunter, are with him."

"Ser Rex you say?" Now the old knight had Robert's full attention "Now there's a man I would gladly take into battle, the stories he had to share…I wonder if he is half as good as he talks."

"We shall see your grace," there was a horn, a trumpet going off signaling the time for the tourney's first event to begin "I should be off your grace, the melee will begin shortly."

"Ser Barristan," Robert's calling stops the old knight in his tracks "Should you face Rosfield in combat…see if he is worthy enough of the white cloak. Nothing more."

"As you command, your grace."

Down in the ring, Cid was eyeing the competition with vague interest. Most were knights from lesser houses, some older veterans of wars long since passed, but none were truly as attention grabbing as the 'champions' of the realm. The Mountain and Amory Lorch were clear after Tywin Lannister's bold arrival the previous night though Cid had to be caught up on just who that was and what had happened when he arrived this morning; Jaime Lannister and Barristan the Bold were on the surface representing the Crown though Sir Jaime may as well be fighting for his father's interests today; Thoros of Myr, a red priest of R'hllor, fought not for his god but at the request of King Robert…apparently they were friends, and Yohn Royce was here in his bronze armor and wielding a mace of all things was to represent the Vale who had sent no other knights to compete.

"Truly, I think this will be an easy victory for us…how much did you say that purse was Hunter?"

"Twenty-thousand gold dragons for the winner," Hunter smirks as a few knights nearby eye him upon hearing the purse total again "And for any man that gets in my way, a meeting with his gods is all he shall receive. Damn fools don't know how to keep themselves out of business they have no part of."

"Aye, they do that quite often here," Cid draws his sword as he watches the older competitors do the same "Seems the show is about to start. Don't suppose you lads will take it easy on me?"

"Hardly would be fair old man," Clive rolls his eyes as he draws Invictus "Just stick to the plan and quit if you feel you need the break."

"Ever the gentleman you are."

While the rest of his companions were keeping up appearances and partaking in the tourney, Rex was back in the city doing his own investigation. It had been many years since he was last in Westeros, but he would never forget what they had learned after those bandits attacked them. Whoever or whatever Littlefinger was, Rex would see it destroyed. For Lord Elwin, for Lady Anabella, for all of Rosaria.

King's Landing was quiet with most of its people watching the tourney. Some shops and smiths were still operating but business here was slowing to a crawl. As Rex walked the streets, he noticed a lack of guards and his old followers from his previous outings. Less orphans following him around though there were some still present keeping an eye on him, even the brothel was less active as most of the whores had been taken for the day by some over eager lordlings.

"And they want to complain about a child's circumstances of birth when they go on and make more," he shakes his head, movement just on his right catching his eye. A small child, perhaps six or seven years of age, was waving at him. Motioning for him to follow as they slipped down a dark alley. Years of experience told Rex that this could be a trap, but this job required him to take the risk. "Alright kid, show me where you want me to go."

As Rex slips down the alley, navigating through a few of the homeless and avoiding the grabbier of the working women hiding out there, he can't help but take notice of just how bad things are off the streets well-travelled by the nobility. Hunter and Wrecker were right, the nobles of Westeros truly didn't give much thought to the people they crushed underfoot every day. Eventually, Rex's little trip ended as he found himself standing outside of a small house. The child he had followed was standing by the door, watching him expectantly as he approached "So…this is what you were leading me to? I take it that whoever sent you is waiting for me inside?"

The child nods, slowly pushing the door open and ushering the knight indoors. Whether he liked it or not didn't matter, he had to do this fi he wanted to find any answers. Rex stepped inside, body tense as he spots a simple table and chairs…and sitting at one of them was the bald eunuch himself, Varys, the king's Master of Whispers.

"Well, I can safely say that you were not what I expected to greet me here."

The spy master smiles "Not the first time I have had the privilege to surprise someone with my appearance. Come, have a seat, we have much to discuss."

"Discuss?" he asks, taking the offered chair "What could the spy master of Westeros want with a knight of Rosaria?"

"Information…yours, for what I know. A fair trade that you are not likely to find from a reputable source here I'm afraid," the man's smile rubbed Rex the wrong way, it set his nerves on edge.

"I'm listening…"

"You've been looking for something, or rather someone. Quite impressively, you Rosarians are almost impossible to get any information out of. Very secretive." Varys' tone implied he was paying a compliment, but Rex wouldn't be caught off guard from one friendly statement. "I would like to know what you are so eager to find. In exchange for knowing that, I shall tell you everything that I know."

"Why would you do this?" he questions, eyes narrowing "You are a spy master, I am a knight…in my experience, a meeting like this does not happen unless you have something to gain. What's in it for you?"

"I simply seek peace and prosperity for the realms. I serve the realm much like a knight does except rather than swing a sword I wield information as my weapons," Varys eyes Rex with an expectant look "Satisfied?"

The knight scowls "Fine…I'm looking for someone or thing called Littlefinger. Last time we were here was when Archduke Elwin ruled, as we were travelling to White Harbor to board our ship back for Valisthea we were set upon by bandits. The prisoner we took claimed that Littlefinger had paid him well to do the job. I swore to the Archduke that I would investigate this matter thoroughly…I simply want to see it through now that I have the chance."

"A personal vendetta?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Littlefinger is a tricky one," Varys' words draw the interest he so desired they would "He is known as Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin and he is as tricky as you would expect. He finds enough coin to keep the kingdom afloat, he has his hands in almost every business in the city and has the ear of every whore you could think of from here to the Wall if they allowed them. That man won't be easy to arrest, nor will he be easy to kill. I dare say most of the city guard are on his payroll."

"So, he's bribed the guards, has whores for spies, and can hire bandits to attack lords he's never met…sounds to me like he is a fool." Rex chuckles.

"A fool ser?"

"I'll stop looking into him," Rex says in response "If what you have told me is true, there'd be no point…but more importantly, I wouldn't be able to get the proof I require to even think of petitioning the Archduke to do anything about him. Thank you, Lord Varys…this little chat has been most illuminating."

"All of that searching…and you are satisfied with the answers you found?"

"You serve the realm, do you not?" Varys pauses. Rex stands with his back to him, his hand reaching for the door "That is an admirable quality to have, noble even…but I and my comrades are not of your realm, are we? We are not so safe as to not be deemed threats to your realm should you see us as such. No, I am not going to be tempted by you for information, nor will I seek conflict where there is none. So long as Littlefinger doesn't come after us, I will not come after him."

Varys watches the Rosarian knight exit the building. Most from Westeros and Essos would have jumped at the chance for revenge or even let their curiosity guide them to an untimely demise. But this one…he was different…he was a knight through and through, but he did not seek conflict. He was smart enough to avoid a potential threat…but what exactly was he hiding within his group?

"Truly, strange times we live in," Varys muses to himself.

Back on the tourney grounds, the melee was in full swing. Clive ducks under a swing from a large man wielding a sword, the man looks to be as built as the Mountain but much smaller than the man himself. His face, square in shape with weasel features attributed to a single house gives him away. This one is a scion of House Frey, one of old Walder Frey's brood of children and grandchildren. Clive brings Invictus up, parrying a strike of his foes sword and shoves him back.

"You'll have to do better than that to best me, Frey."

"You know my house foreigner?" the Frey stumbles, steadying himself as he raises his sword again "I'll enjoy taking that fancy suit of yours for myself…you'll bring me much glory for my house, for the Twins!"

Clive side steps a wide swing, bringing his closed fist down on his opponent's head "Of all the knights I had to fight…why did it have to be a Frey?"

The Frey in question snarls, whirling around with a wild swing. The blade catches Clive in his side, fortunately the low quality of his weapon didn't scratch the armor layer on Clive's side. It did, however, serve to irritate the Lord Marquess. With a fierce smashing of his elbow against his opponent's face he sends the Frey tumbling into the dirt.

"I think you are out for this tourney Ser Frey of the Many," he jeers "Unfortunately for you, that might just stay broken…pity though, I dare say it will improve your looks considerably."

Clive began to walk away, off to find his next opponent in the melee when he heard it. A cry gargled by blood and some broken teeth, but a cry that he heard clear as day. "Bastard!"

The world around him melted away as he heard that word repeat in his head. The sounds of the melee were a dull echo in the distance as the flames within began to burn with a controlled rage. He tightened his hold on Invictus and swung the blade up just in time to catch, of all things, a flaming sword. "And just who are you!?"

"Your next foe, lad," the man was tall though he looked nothing like a knight. He wore no armor, just the red cloth clothes in line with some priests and nobles back in Rosaria. He was a rotund man, not overly so and he held a simple sword in his hand, albeit one alight with the green flames of wildfire. "Thoros of Myr, soon to be champion yet again in this melee."

"Clive Rosfield, of Rosaria," was the response returned in kind "Soon to be your final opponent today."

Thoros laughs, a belly laugh not unlike the king "That so lad? Many knights have claimed as such, and none of them have succeeded in proving that claim true. False hoods wont win you tourneys, especially not against me boy."

"Shall we test that theory then?"

Thoros raises his burning blade "Aye, let's see what you are made of Rosarian."

While Clive was engaging the red priest, Cid was trapped in his own engagement crossing blades with Barristan the Bold. Few knights dared to enter the melee with the Lord Commander himself, fewer still wanted to stick around to watch the engagement as the two men clashed. Cid hated the words as they crossed his mind but he was enjoying the fight. Even if it was all show and no substance.

"Fancy a break Sir Barristan? I don't suppose one as old as you can keep going for too long."

Barristan cracks a smile "This is the most alive I have felt in years Ser Cid, I see why his grace is so taken by you."

"Ah, well…I'm just a humble man trying to help where he can. Nothing too fancy mind."

"Humble?" Barristan laughs "That is not the impression Ser Clive gives when he speaks of you."

"Oh? And what's the lad been saying about me?"

"That you cause him no small amount of headaches with your antics," Barristan swings, catching Cid's blade and locking them both into a struggle "But you are a fighting man, I can see it. So why join the tourney after coming fresh from travel?"

"This a conversation we are having or a melee?" Cid pushes the older man back, readying his blade for another attack "Unlike what Clive might think, I do not partake too heavily in idle chatter during battle."

"Very well then, to battle it is."

"They could try to finish this quick," Colt mutters, arms crossed as he watches the melee below. From up in the stands, his charges to one side, his sworn shield brothers scattered about for their protection, the knight of Rosaria was growing restless "Clive hasn't even finished that priest off yet."

"Patience is a virtue Colt," Joshua chimes in with a smile "My brother might be a little…hot headed at times, but he knows what he is doing. He'll win, have a little patience."

Colt huffs, earning a chuckle from the boys as they watch the fighting with eager eyes. At least they were learning something by watching this chaos unfold. Their training, however, would not be neglected because they were here to see the melee. "I still say he should finish it now."

"And spoil the fun?" Rex asks as he approaches the group.

"Sir Rex! I take it your business is concluded?"

Rex gives the Phoenix a nod "It is your grace, and quite profitably as well."

Joffrey mostly ignores the newly arriving knight. The conversation amongst the Rosarians was nothing of importance to the young prince, but if Lady Warrick was to be wooed then he had to feign some interest and decorum. "If it was trade deals you could have just gone to Lord Baelish directly, I am sure your tradesman would be of more use there rather than waste a knight's talents on it."

"That is an excellent idea, your grace," Joshua, ever the diplomat where royals were concerned bowed his head slightly "We will have to look into that once this tourney is over, won't we Sir Rex?"

"Yes, your grace."

Joshua smiles at the older knight. The older shields had his full confidence and trust, and after everything they had been discussing and the people they had met here, Joshua found having a few good men he could rely on was a great boon for his own worried mind. "Still…Hunter and Cid seem to be doing quite well."

Goetz inches forward in his seat, eyes worriedly watching Cid cross blades with Barristan the Bold. Nan would have his hide if something happened to Cid and he just sat back and watched, but what could he do? The large trader in training watches as Cid ducks under a swing and parries another blow. Barristan certainly wasn't a young knight in shining armor, but he was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for a reason. He was no slouch.

"Come on Cid…" A firm hand is planted on his shoulder, nearly making Goetz jump out of his seat in fright.

"The old man will be alright Goetz," Wrecker assures him with a smile "Not like old Cid could lose to Barristan the Bold."

"Wrecker is right Goetz," Cody adds in "Cid is a skilled fighter, and he has that…extra bit that helps him to dominate his competition. Even without it, he still wont go down so easily."

"Ah, your right Cody…worrying over nothing I am," Goetz leans back, sighing as he sees Cid disarm the older knight.

"Haha! See!? What I tell you? Cid's got this."

Cody gave a short chuckle of his own "Easy Wrecker, we heard you the first time."

"We still don't know what Clive is up against," Thorn mutters, his eyes on the blond stag seated beside Jill "One would think he would be in for a tough fight ahead."

Colt grunts, eyes on the melee "Thoros of Myr is no slouch, but it's not him that I am worried about."

Clive felt his brow raise as he watched Thoros blade be engulfed in green flames. He had never seen any trick like this before…nor did he expect to encounter someone out here who would dare even attempt something similar to the Burning Blade. "Neat trick…what sort of flames are those?"

"Wildfire lad, the very flames Aerys the Mad would use to torture his victims with." Thoros chuckles, inspecting his weapon for himself "Finest flames the Alchemists Guild can make, none can compare."

"Finest flames you say?" Clive chuckles, "So tell me, how many swords do you go through with those flames of yours?"

"Far more than old Tobho Mott wants to keep making," Thoros grouches, eyeing Clive as the lad grips his own blade firmly in hand "Why? What's it to you?"

"Just wanting to see what your cheap imitation can do against the real thing." Clive throws the older man a smirk as he ignites his weapon. The brilliant flames blazing to life much to the shock of the crowd and his opponent "Show me just what it is you can do with that flaming sword of yours."

Thoros says nothing. His eyes remain on that silver blade engulfed in orange flames. Even as their blades clash, he can feel the heat from Clive Rosfield's weapon over that of his own. Wildfire was ruthless, persistent, intense and uncontrollable if let loose from the confines of a simple sword. It was the ultimate flame now that Dragons were extinct. It was.

As Clive swung Invictus, Thoros had a vision in the flames. He could see it clearly…two great beasts of fire decimating the countryside, a man encased in ice, and two men willing to reshape the world through battle. Just as their blades connected there was a snap. The upper half of Thoros' own weapon lay a few feet behind him in the dirt, the flaming tip of Clive's sword was at his throat.

"Yield?"

The red priest looked the young lord in the eye. He could see something in his eyes, something primal and far more than a mere vision, Thoros smiles as he takes a step back. "Aye lad, I yield," he chuckles, smiling as he takes in Clive "You are him…aren't you?"

"Haven't the faintest idea of what you are talking about," was the short response "Tourney is over for you, I suggest you leave before this gets any worse."

Thoros didn't hesitate to take his exit while he had the chance. He had work to do, very important work to do if what he saw was true. He would need a ship, a crew, a new sword and possibly a lot more support than he originally thought. "Flames guide me…those old buggers were right."

Clive watched Thoros make his retreat from the melee with a careful eye, his left ear twitching as he hears the faint sound of an armored boot touching the dirt beneath his feet "I can hear you just fine," he says, turning with an extinguished Invictus in hand "Jaime Lannister…you are not who I was planning to fight today."

The Kingslayer smiles, giving a somewhat careless shrug "Well I have been meaning to test your steel to my own, doesn't hurt that Ser Barristan will not be able to claim to have gotten to you first today."

"You wish to fight me then? Even with the Mountain still standing…this isn't the best plan you've had."

"Is it not?" Jaime raises his sword "Kingsguard against a Rosarian Shield…seems to me this is the perfect plan."

"Very well then," Clive raises Invictus "I confess I too have wanted this to happen. I want to see what Jaime Lannister, the Kingsguard can do."

"Not the Kingslayer?"

Clive shakes his head "I care not for titles earned, given or forced upon someone for a single deed. I only care about what you can do without those false words."

"False…" Jaime smiles, grip tightening around the handle "Very well then, I'll show you what it means to be a Kingsguard!"

Clive backsteps, Invictus parrying the first swing easily before the return strike nearly toppled him. It seemed the Kingslayer was intending to be the aggressor in this engagement as he pressed forward much like the Lion his family had as a symbol of their own might. "Not bad for a Westerosi knight," Clive comments, keeping his eye on Jaime's sword "But you should know something about us Rosarian's."

"What's that?" Jaime grins, parrying a counterstrike "You talk your foes into submission?"

Clive grins, repeating the motions that Gregor had once shown him as a boy between campaigns, he disarmed the Kingslayer. The tip of Invictus held firmly in place just an inch from Jaime's throat. "We don't waste time swinging our blades around for nothing." Clive takes a step back "Pick it up. I'm not done with you just yet."

Jaime hesitates. That look in Clive's eye reminded him of someone but that was impossible. That man was long dead and loath as Jaime was to admit it, he had been bested in a duel with Ned Stark. As the sounds of fighting in the melee slowly dwindled, Jaime took up his sword again. "Very well then…I shall endeavor to keep this entertaining for you, Lord Rosfield."

"Clive."

"Pardon?"

"Ser Jaime, if we are to do battle properly then you shall address me by my name and not a title." Clive smirks "Or should I start addressing you like everyone else does and call you Kingslayer? I find the name apt but the way it is used…woefully dull."

"Woefully dull he says…you are a strange one Clive."

"I just prefer to know the man, not the title." Clive prepares to continue their little battle "Let's try this again, shall we?"

Jaime smiles, readying his blade, the image of one man replaced with another. Both were impossible to be alive today far as he was concerned. But in this one young knight before him…there was a faint glimmer of two he had hoped to serve alongside. "Very well then."

Hunter kicks one of the knights he downed, rolling the groaning body over. Fifteen freshly knighted squires are what they were, not one of them had seen combat before. No melee would ever prepare them for when another man died beside them, or they had to take the life of another. As the last stragglers hurried off with the arms of their last companion slung over their shoulders, Hunter sighs as he sheathes his short sword.

"Bunch of kids…to think they signed up expecting riches and leave with more bruises than they ever got in training."

"If you ask me, that's the easy part for them," Cid chuckles, clapping a hand to the sellswords shoulder "But we still have the fun part to get through."

"Fun part?" Hunter glances over the older man's shoulder "Clive seems to be enjoying himself with the Kingslayer. What are we supposed to do?"

Cid looks tiny bit concerned as he eyes the remaining competitors "Well…for a start, there's them."

Hunter had to take it back. Whatever good thoughts and feelings he had about this group…they all just left tourney. "You are joking. Tell me you're joking?"

"I'm afraid not…but if it makes you feel any better, one of them is likely to knock the other out before we really have to try."

Locked in their own heated battle were two giants among men. As large as Wrecker and that trader Goetz…Hunter didn't know which of them was worse to look at. Covered in dull, steel-grey armor was the Mountain, and opposite him in soot-dark armor with a helmet in the shape of a snarling dog was Sandor Clegane. The Mountain and the Hound.

"We're fucked."

"Chin up lad," Cid chuckles, casually approaching the dueling pair of brothers "We haven't even shown them what we can do yet."

"You are crazy, you know that Cid?"

"First time someone has said that to me today, pity, I was hoping to go a day without anyone saying that now that I'm back."

The two slowly approached the lumbering giants. The amount of force Hunter was seeing being thrown around by the two brothers…just how did Cid expect either of them to fell these two great brutes? The Mountain alone was heralded as being the strongest man in Westeros, killing him on the battlefield was hard enough but to just knock him out of a tourney? That was suicidal at best. Gregor raises his greatsword up high over his head, ready to bring it down and cut his annoyance of a younger brother down.

"Oi, Hill Man!" The Mountain's head slowly turns, eyes narrowing on the smiling face of that foreigner he had heard about so often. Cid just smiles as he sees the brute's attention on him "Got your attention, I hope? What's say we leave your poor brother out of this, and have a little chat, shall we?"

Gregor skulks off, stalking towards Cid, blade raised. "You wish to die that badly, do you?"

Cid winces. Large as this one was…his voice was a lot worse, could probably shatter stone with that gruff tone of his…and Cid was almost certain this was his 'pleasant' tone of voice too "I wouldn't say I wish to die…though, I fancy you could be a good warm up. My daughter did a pretty good number to me a while back, so I might not be as spry as you are used to."

The Mountain laughs, a deep rumbling sound "You fight with women and think to challenge me? I'd crush you too fast to enjoy the fight."

Cid draws his blade "Funny, I was thinking you'd be just enough to get me in shape to fight a real opponent after."

Gregor snarls, wincing beneath his helmet, he brings a hand up to his head as he tries to shake off the pain. "Fight you…I'll kill you little man!"

Hunter kept his distance, watching the Hound struggle to stand as his brother went to engage Cid. Suddenly he understood just why Clive had been so happy when Cid had left for Oldtown. Nothing was quite right with that man around. And clearly, as he engaged the Mountain, the very words Clive had been telling him about Cid were true.

"That man is mad, and so are we for following him somewhat." Hunter slowly stepped along the edge of the pairs combat circle. Far enough to be out of range of a swing from either, but close enough to intervene should the need arise.

Cid had to give credit where it was due as he worked to dodge every swing from the Mountain, his own blade cutting across the larger mans armor and leaving minor cuts along his torso. He was a tough bastard, of that there could be no mistake.

"Hold still!" Gregor roars, a bout of pain ripping through his skull from his headache "I'll crush you! Crush you…crush you!"

Cid smirks as he dances around the wild swings "Keep trying, you just might get close eventually." The Dominant of Lightning jumps back, bringing his blade to his side as he studies his opponent's movement "Odd…don't recall hitting you in the head…"

Gregor grasps at his helm, glaring daggers at the foreigner before him "Hate you…kill you…"

Clive rolls his shoulders; his arms were getting tired as he traded blows with Ser Jaime of House Lannister. Despite his title of Kingslayer, despite his smug attitude and disregard for those he deemed beneath him…Clive had to give him some respect. The man was skilled with a blade, unfortunately for him…were Clive fighting with all the talents at his disposal, this fight would have been finished long ago.

"Getting tired Clive?"

"Hardly, though sad to say this would be over were I to try." Clive smirks, "Alas, I will be ending this here Ser Jaime. You have been quite the sparring partner, and…you are an impressive knight to be sure."

Jaime pauses, catching the faint smile…the way Clive's eyes softened as he spoke. There was something there…he was sure of it now. Again, just like before, in a simple motion Jaime found his blade on the ground and Clive's blade pointed at his throat. "Clever yet deceitful, disarming me with praise and a sword."

"In battle, anything goes, and honor has no place…but with respect to you, I did not want this to be over the first time." Clive brings Invictus back, lowering the weapon as he bows to his opponent "Consider that thanks for the interesting time here."

"What will you do now? Your friends are up against the Mountain," Jaime scoffs "Hardly a man alive today can say he has survived an encounter with him unscathed."

Clive smirks, glancing back at where Cid and the Mountain were engaged "Oh, we have a plan for him."

"Clive!"

"Speaking of which…"

Cid brings his blade up, parrying a blow but only barely. The force of the swing nearly knocked him over, and if it wasn't for Hunter distracting the great brute, Cid didn't doubt that he would be dead at worse for this part. Gregor Clegane was truly a monster, but fortunately for Cid he had one of his own to call upon as he stood back up. "If I wasn't told to hold back, I would have just finished him before he could waste his own energy. Clive, you better be right about all of this."

Hunter ducks under a swing, slashing at the Mountain's legs and getting a good kick for his trouble. As his back hit the ground, the sellsword couldn't suppress the groan he gave as he felt his chest flare up in pain "Yeah…those are broken…or bruised…by the gods he really does hit hard."

Gregor's thunderous footsteps shook the ground as he stalked towards Hunter's downed form. The sellsword reached for his trusty dagger, ready to break a few rules if it meant his survival. Just as the Mountain towered over him, his shadow engulfing Hunter in its shade, there was a tiny sound of something striking metal.

"Hey!" Cid calls, idly tossing another stone in his hand "We weren't finished yet. Back away from my friend there, and I wont toss this next one through your helmet."

Gregor slowly turns, cracking his neck as he makes his approach. Hunter gives a dry laugh. Finally, that crazy man did something useful. Maybe he wouldn't mind if Hunter just took a few minutes of rest? Yeah…that sounded nice.

Cid shakes his head as he watches Hunter's fall back. Poor lad would be feeling that for a while, too bad he couldn't keep on his feet a bit longer. "Really wish I could just electrocute the bastard…would be so easy too." Cid sighs as the Mountain raises his greatsword. Out of the corner of his eye, Cid sees all that he needs to "Clive!"

Burning Blade in hand, Clive stops the swing that would have seen Cid be split in half down the middle. The Promised Prince just barely strains under the pressure, body heating up as he pushes the Mountain back. "Mind if I cut in?"

"Took your sweet time," Cid muses "Why didn't you just…you know."

"Too flashy, but you didn't exactly wear him down much, did you?"

"Not my fault, bloody bastard hits you like a Behemoth and still has energy to spare," Cid frowns, stepping up beside Clive "He has headaches Clive, not unlike those you've had, be careful."

"Headaches, as if a god would choose him as a champion," Clive brings Invictus up "Ready to topple a mountain?"

"Soon as he swings…here he comes."

Gregor was seeing red. His eyes were drawn to that flaming sword as he came in with a roar, bringing his greatsword down. Cid and Clive both spun out of the way, Cid delivering a light slash to Gregor's back while Clive brought his blade down hard on the Mountain's weapon snapping it in two. Disarmed and rearing back with a pained shout, the last thing Gregor saw before the melee ended was a fist striking his helmeted face and sending him into the dirt.

There was an audible thud as the large body of the Mountain hit the dirt, a small cloud of sand and dust being kicked up from his mighty weight settling. Cid was panting, sheathing his sword as he called it quits. No sense in wearing himself out any more by fighting Clive, lad could have his win. Clive just smiled, equally as tired and just as proud to have done this. All around them there was silence as nobles and smallfolk alike stared in a mix of awe, fear, joy, shock, and outrage as these foreigners had toppled Gregor Clegane. The Mountain that Rides, had just become the Mountain that Falls. Clive slowly raised Invictus up high, flames extinguished as the crowd broke out into an uproar, a cheer of thunderous applause and adoration from those tormented by knights like Ser Gregor, respect from the nobles who still had some honor and had condemned the man's actions in the sacking of Kings Landing during the rebellion. The only ones not finding some enjoyment from all of this were the Lannister's.

Tywin Lannister felt his eyes narrow on Clive Rosfield. After seeing his champion, his personal attack dog, fall to this foreigner…something would have to be done about him and his party. Cersei silently seethed in her seat; Jaime never lost a fight…he could be unseated in a joust but to be beaten in a duel? And by a foreigner no less…Clive Rosfield didn't know he was her enemy, but he soon would.

While his queen and goodfather were upset, Robert Baratheon was overjoyed with the displays. The fat king knew the men still standing if barely were talented fighters, great knights for certain, but he also knew they were holding back. Part of him feared that little detail but his eyes could tell it was no lie. The way Cid and Clive moved…those two were toying with their opponents, even the Mountain was nothing more than a toy to them…but just what could they do? Robert glances at Myrcella out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps there was a way to ensure some of that talent stayed here in Westeros?

Jill was overjoyed, she didn't give any reaction that might clue others into her true feelings, but she was just as happy for Clive as anyone else, maybe even more. Cody, Colt, and Rex were proud to see just what their training could do for the young lord, no longer the boy that first came to be their collective student. Thorn, however, found himself reflecting somewhat. Clive was his rival for many things, perhaps no longer was he a rival for Clive but Clive would always be his rival, his comparison…this display just proved that the difference between them was far greater than he had expected it to be.

Goetz and Wrecker were cheering, the two large men with brimming smiles were the loudest by far as Cid helped Hunter to his feet and off the field. As Clive followed after them he could feel the eyes on him, deep within he felt the flames roaring as the fire inside grew more intense. Joshua felt it too, but he didn't just feel something within himself from the Phoenix; he felt the searing heat on his back, the cold prick of fear in his heart. The young archduke's eyes roamed the crowds. He saw nothing out of place, but he knew something was amiss.

"Are you alright?"

Jote's soft voice helped him to relax, his shoulders had been tensing before she spoke up "I'm fine…but we mustn't be distracted for much longer."

"You think he's here."

It wasn't a question. It was a fact. "I don't know…but acting as if he is, is better than pretending he's not out there still."

AN: Was this a lot of POV changes? Feel like a whole lot of nothing or a whole lot of something? If you answered yes to any of these…good news ladies and germs, boys and squirrels…this is only the tourney's big events being covered in one go. Why? Because I can't be satisfied simply by saying 'I apologize' when my last chapters were a bit delayed and or slow.

What have we learned? We've seen there are some plans brewing in a certain 'not clone' captain's head. We know that the Mountain is not invincible due to a reason that some of you have probably investigated and thought 'eureka!'. The "I'll shout if I find them" has made a return just without the setup it had in the game, shame for that but its here…maybe not in its only appearance? I make no promises. And we've just seen some minor things be hinted at, I wont spoil it as that's for the future…but what do we think of the Mountain being toppled by foreigners not fit to be his squires? Don't worry, there's a reason I went this route and not the bloody death I originally had been thinking of doing. Here's a hint: Dominants and Eikons.

I make no such promises that your first thoughts are correct. And yes I am just that cruel :)

One thing that's a point of concern…I have no idea how many have even read the last chapter as the site still (as of this being written, not posted) hasn't fixed the issue, or the servers haven't rebooted that portion yet. Let's try an old sign off then, shall we? If you like this story, give it a follow; if you love it, hit that favorite button down there…or up there; if you got a question or just really can't help yourself from rambling about something that excited you or that you loved/thought was brilliant then leave a Review. I respond to all that I see unless its Jebest4781 earlier reviews to chapters already done…man scares me with how fast he jumps on these. Like a pack of piranha that one is…no offense dude!

Now…to the reviews…

Jebest4781: …can you kindly get out of my head please? Because that's where my mind first went for those two giants meeting face to face…but sadly for you, there's some plans in store for both before any such clash could happen, IF it happens. And this time, I know it's something you yourself didn't see coming at all.

dragon slayer of death 98: You aren't too far off the mark. Considering our friends here are not using any magic at all they are for the most part handicapping themselves to blend in and not draw attention to Valisthea. But as should be obvious by now, this plan wont work forever. Just have to see how that goes later on.

tsourghs.59: Same as canon? …as if the changes weren't even done. I originally listed them for you, but thought of something better for you: For the best change, little things are needed, not a great splash. I cannot force you to keep reading this, nor will I disparage you for having an opinion as is your right. I will however say that everything between now and the repeated 'big event' coming up in about 8-10 chapters is going to affect the 'world' that is this story. There are big changes to the canons, and there are small ones, all I ask is that you be patient and if you can't then simply stop reading.