Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls or A Song of Ice and Fire. All rights belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 21
Dorne 297 AC
A cloud of dust rose as a horse galloped at high speed along an improvised and poorly made track. The rider advanced in a straight line, heading towards a kind of fixed target, found at the point where a rival would come in the tournament. With a small shield and a tournament lance in hand, he saw his "enemy" and, lowering his right arm, placed the lance in a horizontal position. The impact against the dummy was so strong that the lance broke at once.
After the hit, the rider continued riding a bit further until he finally stopped. When the horse stopped moving, he pulled the reins and made it approach the dummy to examine the damage caused. As he laid eyes on the straw-filled object, he saw that its chest was completely shattered.
'It seems the force of the blow is much greater than it should be. These tournament lances are supposed to be hollow and not cause the damage of a normal lance. This shouldn't be happening. I'll have to keep practicing to control the force of my attacks and avoid killing someone.'
With these thoughts, the rider moved the reins for his horse to start galloping towards a nearby small oasis. This oasis was a small stretch of water surrounded by some date palms.
When he arrived, he saw his friends there, sitting with horses rented for a considerable amount of money, as the stable owner didn't seem very sure about renting the horses to complete strangers.
"How was the training, Jon?" asked Grenn, who was wearing Dornish clothes to pass as a local, although his fair skin made him stand out.
"It was... productive." replied Jon, the bastard of Winterfell, as he dismounted his horse.
"How so?" asked Pyp, holding a bottle of Dornish wine diluted with water.
"No matter how much I practice, I feel like I'll end up killing a competitor in the tournament." Jon replied, as he took the reins of his horse and led it to a palm tree, tying it so it wouldn't escape.
"That's strange. Those lances aren't supposed to kill anyone." commented Sam, who was peeling a blood orange. After finishing peeling it, he put a piece in his mouth and, while chewing, thought about what could be happening for his friend to believe he might kill someone. After a moment of reflection, a doubt arose in his mind, and he asked a question. "Jon, how are you using the lance in your tournament practices?"
"Well, I carry it vertically from the moment I leave the start of my part of the track. While riding, I wait for the right moment to lower it, and when I feel it, I put it in a horizontal position. Then I keep riding, maintaining balance until I see the enemy, aim, and just before impact, I pull my arm back and stab the target forcefully with the lance."
When Jon finished explaining, Sam and Edd's eyes widened, causing the others to look curious.
"Why that face?" asked Pyp.
"Because Jon is doing it slightly wrong." replied Edd, looking at his friend seriously.
"How so? Aren't I supposed to move the lance during the clash?" Jon asked, somewhat confused.
"For a normal human, yes, that's correct, but we're talking about you. It's not the force given by the horse's gallop to the lance that causes those wounds on the dummies, it's your own brute strength."
Edd's words left Jon confused, as he didn't feel he was using too much force in those attacks. In fact, he wasn't even using thirty percent of his real strength.
"Jon, remember that you have superhuman strength. That, combined with the speed of the horse's gallop, significantly increases the force of your blows." pointed out Sam as he stood up and approached his friend. "I think the best thing would be not to move your hand so much or to reduce the force you use in each blow much more."
Sam's words left Jon thoughtful for a moment, after which he nodded, acknowledging that his friend was right.
"Okay, I'll do it. But I'll need you to help me train, to see how much of my strength I need to hold back to avoid killing anyone."
"Alright. I have no problem with that." said Grenn, looking at his friends. "What about you?"
"Nothing, I can go too." replied Pyp.
"Me too." added Edd.
"Me too, I have nothing to do until the evening, as I have to go back to the ship for Dany's lessons." said Sam.
"Good. Then help me with this."
After those words, the group decided to rest for a couple of hours to let Jon's horse drink water, and then they would head to the place where Jon was practicing.
The sun was not at its zenith, showing it was still early, well before noon. The Shadow City was in a more euphoric mood than on a typical day, where everything seemed to be going well for the citizens. This was because today marked the beginning of a tournament that would last three days. The reason for its short duration was that stricter requirements had been imposed than in other tournaments. To register for the two competitions, participants had to be anointed knights or nobles under twenty-five years old.
The reason behind this specific restriction was simple. Unknown to the participants, this tournament was not just a frivolity organized by House Martell but also a way to evaluate the loyalties of their vassals and assess potential candidates to be consorts for the future Princess of Dorne. While some nobles might be considered candidates, the true intention of the tournament was to measure their martial skills, as the future consort would be the one to lead the military campaigns that might arise in the future.
A large crowd had gathered outside the city, just to the right of the Old Palace, the seat of House Martell. The crowd settled in several stands arranged in a way that made the place look like a coliseum next to the palace. The site was adorned with hundreds of banners, many belonging to the houses of Dorne, both lordly houses and landed knights. However, there were also banners of nobles from other regions, such as the Stormlands and the Reach, as well as some from hedge knights.
In addition to the stands for the common folk, there were several boxes reserved for the noble families of the region. In one of those boxes was the Martell family, although not all members were present. Two were missing: Prince Doran Martell and his brother, Prince Oberyn Martell.
The absence of the two did little to diminish the whispers heard among some family members, who were divided into small groups. The first group consisted of Prince Doran's daughter, the young Arianne Martell, and her cousins, the elder daughters of Prince Oberyn, the infamous Sand Snakes. Another group was formed by Oberyn's younger daughters, the other Sand Snakes, along with their cousin, Prince Trystane, Doran's youngest son. The middle son of the reigning Prince of Dorne was not in the box, as he had gone to see his friends, with whom he was in another box.
"So, cousin, how do you feel today?" asked Nymeria Sand, Oberyn's second daughter. The young woman was about twenty-five years old, with a slim and slender body, black straight hair tied in a long braid interwoven with copper threads. Her large, bright dark eyes contrasted with her full, wine-red lips and high cheekbones. Her fair skin, inherited from her mother, a noblewoman from Volantis, stood out with her transparent yellow silk dress, which revealed the jewelry and gold thread she wore as adornments. "You know, because of what this tournament means."
"Honestly, I feel a bit excited." replied Princess Arianne Martell, smiling with amusement. The princess, short in stature, with a curvaceous body, olive skin, large dark eyes, and lustrous black hair curled to mid-back, radiated beauty. Her full lips and, according to several lovers, her round breasts with large dark nipples, were common knowledge. Her yellow silk dress, accompanied by jewelry, reflected the wealth of her house.
"Of course, you would be excited, dear cousin." commented Tyene Sand with a smile. Tyene, the daughter of Oberyn and a Septa, kept a pious appearance for others. Her slender figure, blue eyes, blonde hair, soft hands, and gentle voice made her stand out. Today she wore a tight pale blue samite dress with Myrish lace sleeves. Looking at her cousin, she gave her the most pious and cheerful look possible. "It's not every day you have all the young knights and lords of Dorne killing themselves to impress your father and win your hand."
"That's nonsense." pointed out Obara Sand, Oberyn's eldest daughter. Born of a prostitute from Oldtown, Obara was a woman of large bones, long legs, and straight brown hair. She was considered not very beautiful but saw herself as a warrior. For the occasion, she wore a brown tunic, black pants, leather boots, and a belt with several copper suns. Over her shoulders, a mottled sand-colored silk cloak protected her from the sun. "Why does it have to be a man who leads Dorne's armies? Let our cousin give me the command. Then she would only need someone to have heirs with, and that man wouldn't have much power."
"Maybe so, sister." replied Sarella Sand. The daughter of Oberyn and a woman from the Summer Isles, Sarella had black hair and dark skin, almost teak-colored. Her vibrant-colored Summer Isles dress stood out among the crowd. "But Dorne's troops will never follow a woman into battle. That's why someone skilled with weapons is needed, so they can also serve as Dorne's champion."
"That's stupid." said Obara, crossing her arms. "I'm sure I could defeat several of the idiots down there."
"Of course, sister, but better not do it. We don't want you to hurt some noble's pride." commented Nymeria mockingly.
"Yes, cousin, please don't humiliate anyone, at least for now." added Arianne with a smile, causing all her cousins to laugh.
When the laughter died down, they all looked at the jousting field and saw that the final preparations for the start of the competition were being completed.
"I hope at least some catch your eye, cousin." said Nymeria.
"If not, there's always the usual ones." added Tyene with a knowing smile.
"Yes, cousins, let's hope this is entertaining." said Arianne, turning her head as she heard approaching footsteps.
While the noble families whispered in their boxes, in the lower stands, the common folk did the same. However, besides them, the crew of the «StarWolf» also took part in the murmuring. Jon's traveling companions wore typical Dornish clothes, complemented with headscarves tied with cords.
"This tournament seems more extravagant than I expected." commented Pyp, seeing how the commoners whispered about the houses of the participants.
"Yes, there are too many Dornish noble houses gathered here." pointed out Grenn, fixing his gaze on the banners of the nobles in the boxes.
"All the Dornish houses are here, from the great Lords to the landed Knights." explained Sam, catching his friends' attention.
"Are you sure?" asked Edd, looking towards the door where the participants would enter.
"Yes, I'm sure. The most powerful houses of Dorne are here, like the Yronwood of Yronwood, the Fowler of Skyreach, the Allyrion of Godsgrace, the Qorgyle of Sandstone, and the Dayne of Starfall."
"That's incredible." said Edd, surprised, which piqued Daenerys's curiosity. However, before she could ask, Sam continued.
"But not only that, there are also some houses from other regions." he added, pointing to some more heraldry. "From here, I see the purple lightning bolt of the Dondarrion, the nightingales of the Caron, the wheat stalks of the Selmy, and the swans of the Swann."
The mention of the houses from the Dornish Marches left Grenn, Pyp, and Edd stunned.
"Damn, that's incredible. How are houses that hate the Dornish here?" asked Edd, then looking at Pyp. "Pyp, when you go to Jon to help him with the jousts, tell him what Sam said. The gathering of so many houses is unprecedented; something is happening here."
"Alright." replied Pyp, standing up. "I think it's best if I go now, to tell him while there are no matches. I'll also take Ghost; I think it would be good for Jon to have some cover down there."
After those words, Pyp took Grenn's bag, where Ghost was hidden, transformed into a puppy, as Jon didn't want his friend to draw attention during the tournament.
When Pyp left the stands to head to the places where the knights waited for their turns, Daenerys, feeling curious about the way Edd had expressed himself, asked him:
"Edd, what's going on? Why are you acting that way?" asked Daenerys, confused, as she didn't understand what the young man from the Vale was trying to express.
Daenerys's question made Edd look at her and begin to explain.
"Look, Dany." Edd began using that diminutive because he had gotten used to calling her that in public. "Although tournaments are organized to celebrate some event, sometimes they are used as covers to carry out court intrigues."
"Something like the Harrenhal tournament?" whispered Daenerys, making sure no one else heard the question.
"That's right." replied Sam, who also joined the conversation. "There are rumors that that tournament was organized by your brother to convene a great council and overthrow his father. But it seems the king found out and that's why he attended, thwarting all the prince's plans."
Hearing this, Daenerys felt a new wave of anger against her father.
'If only you hadn't moved from the Red Keep, history would be different now.' Daenerys thought with frustration. 'If Rhaegar had managed to overthrow you, my mother would be alive, my nephews, my brothers, everything would be different. It's even possible that Jon wouldn't be a bastard, but no, you had to go and ruin everything as you always did.'
"Dany, are you okay?" asked Grenn, seeing how Daenerys's face contorted with anger.
Realizing they were looking at her, the exiled young princess blinked and came back to herself. Blushing, she looked at her friends and assured them that nothing was wrong.
Although the three young men didn't seem to fully believe her, they decided not to ask more.
"Well, back to what we were saying." Sam continued. "the reason we believe something strange is happening behind the scenes is simple: no matter how rich and powerful a house is, they wouldn't hold an event of this magnitude without reason. Something is happening, and it might be dangerous to be here."
"I see, but it seems that..."
What Daenerys was going to say got stuck in her throat when the trumpets began to sound, catching everyone's attention. The crowd's gaze fixed on the trumpeters, found in the Martell box. A young man no older than twenty approached the edge and began to shout:
"Welcome, everyone! The tournament will begin shortly! However, before that, Prince Doran Martell will address you with a few words!"
After those words, the young herald withdrew, and in a few seconds, a man approached the edge. The man was thin, with white hair and some interspersed black strands. He had a sparse beard, more white than black. His clothes were a yellow doublet with red details.
'So that's the Prince of Dorne.' thought Daenerys with curiosity as she saw the brother of her late sister-in-law.
"Welcome, everyone! I know that when the announcement about the tournament was made, it took many by surprise, but I am deeply glad that you arrived in time for the event. I know many have ridden from far away to take part, so I assure you that you will not be disappointed with the prizes of this tournament!"
After those words, Prince Doran paused while the Dornish applauded loudly.
"Over the next three days, the jousts will take place, and on the last day, the melee combat will be held!"
Doran Martell's words were followed by whispers, as everyone began to talk about the amount of gold that would be awarded as a prize to the tournament winner, the second place, and the melee combat victor.
"Now, I declare the tournament open! May luck be with you and may the light of the Seven guide you to victory!"
After those words, the Prince of Dorne gave a final salute and withdrew from the edge of the box, taking a seat on an improvised throne. What followed were cheers and applause from the audience.
"It looks like it's about to start." said Grenn, seeing how a herald entered the center of the jousting field.
"Yes, this will be entertaining." commented Pyp, who had returned from talking to Jon while Prince Doran was giving his speech. Jon had decided that one of the servants would help him with the lances.
"How is Jon?" asked Daenerys, somewhat worried about her friend, especially since she was the one who had caused him to participate in this tournament. I know it was wrong to ask him to enter, but it was the only way to force him to meet his maternal family.
The young woman's thoughts were directed at the fact that Jon had confessed to her that he felt some fear about seeing his maternal relatives. That had been one of the reasons why he had never gone to Starfall, despite having had opportunities during his travels. Jon feared not being accepted by the Daynes, as he had never received a letter from them for as long as he could remember.
"He's fine, just a bit uncomfortable about having to participate in this tournament. He didn't expect to see so many people here." replied Pyp with a smile. "But other than that, I think he's excited, as it's his first time doing this."
"That sounds good." said Daenerys, relieved to know that Jon felt somewhat euphoric about participating.
"Well, let's stop talking, it's about to start." said Grenn, catching the attention of all the «StarWolf» crew members, who stopped chatting and focused on what was happening. The first joust was about to begin, and the first two opponents were knights with unknown heraldry.
"Which houses do they belong to?" asked Daenerys, puzzled by the banners, as she didn't remember any of them from her lessons with Sam.
"I don't know." replied Pyp, who, due to his earlier work as a mime, had traveled through much of Westeros and seen various heraldry.
"I don't recognize them either; they must be hedge knights." commented Sam, who, despite having read a lot at the Citadel, didn't recognize those heraldry.
"I see..." said Daenerys as she watched both knights take their positions at the starting point on the track, ready to begin their joust.
Jon was leaning against a pillar, watching the fifteenth round of the preliminaries with disinterest. He knew many of the participants were talking about him behind his back, as he had heard them whispering. The reason for this was probably his attire, which drew a lot of attention in a place like Dorne.
'This is getting annoying.' Jon thought, as he restrained the urge to give more than half of the knights and nobles behind him a good beating. However, before he could say anything, the sound of a lance breaking mixed with the gasp of the crowd, which caught his attention. Fixing his gaze on the tournament track, Jon saw what was happening.
'And the day turns dark.' Jon thought as he saw the scene. During this joust, one of the competitors had been struck by a splinter from his opponent's lance. The splinter flew and ended up lodged in the right eye of the young man, who had gone with a full helmet but did not lower the visor, leaving his face unprotected. 'I don't understand why someone who wears a helmet doesn't use it properly... but well, what's done is done.'
After those thoughts, Jon saw how the rider was picked up and taken to the infirmary. He seemed to be alive for now, but what really caught Jon's attention was the roughness with which the Dornish were transporting him. That aroused his curiosity. Looking at the injured knight, he saw that he bore a peculiar heraldry: two swans facing each other on a field divided into silver and sable. 'That banner... as I recall, it's from House Swann, one of the Lords of the Marches of Dorne in the Stormlands. And who was the one who knocked him down...? Damn! That emblem is from House Manwoody, a house that has always had problems with the Dornish Marcher Lords. This is bad; if the knight from House Swann dies, it could cause a skirmish in those areas.'
Jon's concern was not that he cared about the area or House Swann itself, but that he didn't like wars being fought over stupidities. While waiting for the jousts to continue, he thought of a way to help that guy. After a while of reflection, he decided that after his joust, he would go see him stealthily to give him a healing potion, enough to give him a chance to survive.
When he finished thinking, he heard the first of the next two jousters being called.
"The next competitors! On one side, we have Ser Andrey Dalt, brother of Ser Deziel Dalt, Knight of Lemonwood."
After those words, Jon saw a knight mount his horse, a gray mare speckled with white spots, and head to the center of the track. The knight wore bronze scale armor, with a large helmet decorated with a cloth tied at the front of the helmet. Additionally, he held the helmet with his left hand, while in that same hand he carried a round shield, which shone showing it was made of steel. The shield bore the heraldry of House Dalt: a field of lemons on a purple background.
The knight rode until he stopped in the middle of the jousting track and looked towards the Martell family's box. Then, he stayed there, waiting for the herald to call his opponent.
The herald saw the knight and then looked at the scroll where the names of the competitors were written. Upon reaching the name of the young man with whom the knight of House Dalt was to joust, he showed a confused expression for a second, then smiled slightly.
"It seems that the good knight of House Dalt will face a knight who refuses to give his name!"
The mention of this made the audience start whispering among themselves, almost all saying the same word: "mysterious knight".
When Jon heard that, he knew they were referring to him, as he had registered as a mysterious knight. The reason he did so was because his half-northern origin could cause problems. It seemed the Dornish still harbored resentment towards the northerners since Robert's rebellion. So, to avoid trouble, he decided to take part under that identity.
"The knight registered himself as the knight of Dawnstar."
Upon hearing those words, Jon mounted the black stallion he had bought for this tournament. He took the reins and, with gentle touches of the spurs, made the horse start galloping towards the center of the track.
The way he entered the arena made everyone look at him and start talking, as it was very uncommon for mysterious knights to use a stallion like the one Jon was riding. Jon's horse, a brown stallion whose bearing showed strength and endurance, had a quick pace, which was noticed by the nobles. Immediately, they realized that Jon was not a mysterious knight without resources, but someone with enough means to afford such a horse.
Although his ears picked up some of the words of those nearby, Jon paid little attention to them and continued on his way. When he reached the side of the knight of Lemonwood, they both looked at each other, bowed towards the Martell family's box, and then began to ride to the other end of the track, as those were their starting positions. However, as Jon crossed paths with the young Dalt, he heard his voice.
"Ummm... A mysterious knight. I wonder what you have to hide, but in the end, it doesn't matter. If you came seeking glory that way, I'm afraid I'll take your armor and your horse in the first pass. With that, I'll unmask you, my good Ser."
The young Dalt's words were loaded with a certain confidence, but they did not reach arrogance. However, those words did not intimidate Jon. In fact, they made him smile under his helmet.
"Heh, heh. I think you're too confident in your victory, my good Ser. But I'm afraid it will be you who will give me your horse and your armor."
After those words, Jon saw the young man frown, a clear sign that he was upset.
"We'll see, Ser."
After that small exchange, both Jon and Andrey spurred their horses and began to pick up speed for the charge they would have.
As both knights rode to prepare for their joust, in the Martell box, the ruling family of Dorne was having a small conversation centered on the mysterious knight who had just appeared in the tournament.
"I never thought a mysterious knight would appear in this tournament, brother." said Prince Oberyn Martell with a smile, who had arrived at the box accompanied by his brother. Prince Oberyn, younger brother of Doran Martell, was a renowned warrior, known for his speed in combat. His athletic figure and imposing appearance made him stand out. He was a tall and slender man, with olive skin, a sharp face, fine eyebrows, black "viper" eyes, and an aquiline nose. His black, lustrous hair had some silver streaks. At that moment, he was wearing a yellow silk doublet, adorned with bronze suns embedded in the fabric.
"It's not unheard of for someone to want to participate in this way." commented Doran Martell, watching as the mysterious knight approached the curve where he would take his lane for the joust. "As long as there are young men who seek to prove their worth regardless of the rules, there will always be mysterious knights in tournaments."
"The truth is, I find the idea of a mysterious knight participating in this tournament attractive." commented Princess Arianne, catching her family's attention.
"Really? And why is that, niece?" asked Oberyn, smiling.
"The mystery of the man hiding under that helmet seems like an intriguing trait." replied the princess while seeing the mysterious knight. Unlike his mount, the knight's attire was quite simple. He did not wear plate armor but a steel chainmail with a padded leather vest over it, covered with embedded bronze scales. His helmet was ovoid, with a small point at the top, and a faceguard that completely covered his face, leaving only openings for the eyes. The knight's arms and legs were protected by hardened leather greaves and bracers, while a light gray cloth wrapped around his neck like a scarf, falling forward and backward, secured by the belt. In his left hand, he held a round shield, unlike Andrey's shield, made of wood with a steel rim. The shield was painted light gray, with a four-pointed star engraved on it, in white.
"Father, who do you think will win?" asked Tyene, watching as both knights received their respective lances and prepared for the charge in the first pass.
"My bets are on Andrey. Young Dalt may not be the best warrior in Dorne, but he is one of the bravest and most dangerous we have. The mysterious knight does not seem to be a renowned knight, rather a young man who wants to play the enigmatic."
"Well, then I think I'll disagree with you on this, dear uncle." said Arianne, attracting her family's attention.
"Oh, and why is that, niece?" asked Oberyn, with an amused smile. "Isn't Andrey a friend of both you and Tyene?"
"That's right, uncle, but I feel that young man is more skilled than Andrey. I'll bet on him." replied Arianne with a smile. "And I think Tyene is on my side in this."
"Really? Do you really support your cousin, my daughter?"
"Yes, father. As skilled as Andrey is, the mysterious knight has a kind of presence that makes one believe he can defeat everyone in the arena."
"Well, that remains to be seen, as they are about to charge at each other." said Oberyn, pointing to the arena.
The eyes of the Martell family members turned to the track, watching as both knights spurred their horses, causing them to accelerate towards the other end of the track, keeping their lanes. The lances of both knights remained in a vertical position during the first quarter of the track, but then they began to lower them until they were in a horizontal position. When they reached the middle of the track, what usually happens in tournaments occurred: both knights aimed their lances at the opponent's body, trying to knock him down.
Although the image of two knights clashing their lances was common in tournaments, the Red Viper's eyes narrowed as he noticed something peculiar. Unlike Andrey, the mysterious knight did not move his lance much, simply keeping it in a horizontal position. This puzzled Oberyn, who did not understand why that knight adopted that posture. However, when the lances of both aimed at their respective enemies, the mysterious knight's lance seemed faster than Dalt's, striking the Dornish knight's shield, breaking it into pieces and throwing Andrey off his horse.
The young knight's body fell somewhat abruptly, but from the box, everyone could see that he had not fallen dangerously, so he would only have some bruises.
"It seems I have won this little bet, uncle." said Arianne with a predatory smile on her face, while watching the mysterious knight dismount and quickly check the young Dalt's condition. After a few seconds, he helped the knight out of the arena, while the audience applauded the honorable gesture of the young mysterious knight.
"Yes, niece, it seems the young mysterious knight is more capable than we thought." said Oberyn while glancing at his brother.
The Red Viper knew this tournament had two purposes: first, to detect possible alliances in Dorne that threatened House Martell, and second, to measure the martial ability of the young Dornish to find a possible consort candidate for Arianne.
'This wasn't in your plans, was it, brother?' thought Oberyn as he saw Doran frown. 'It seems this tournament has become more fun than I initially thought.'
Author's Note:
To those who have made it this far, thank you for reading. To be honest, my English writing skills are not strong, and I'm relying on Google Translate and the dictionaries that come with Office 2019.
And chapter 21 is done, XD
To be honest, I don't know anything about medieval tournaments, so I'm warning you that this will be very difficult for me to write, so please be patient if I mess up a lot. XD
Now, let's leave that aside and focus on the important part, the tournament. While at first it seemed like just a random tournament, we see that Doran wants to use it to evaluate the loyalty of his vassals and to find a 'good husband' for his daughter. On the other hand, we see that Jon has entered as a mysterious knight, using the name of one of the cities of Skyrim, which by the way is one of my favorites 'minor cities' (cities without walls that are more like towns) in the entire Skyrim game, and its name has a sort of reference to the settlement of House Dayne.
Now, a little spoiler, in the next chapter we will see reactions and conversations. XD
I apologize for any spelling errors. Please don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter, or if there's something that needs improvement, or if you have any questions about the story. Any constructive advice is welcome. With nothing more to say, see you in the next chapter.