- King's Landing -
The horses and wagon carrying Shella stopped on Eel Alley, "Right here is enough, just right."
Steffon huffed a little while dismounting from his horse, "Grandmother, why don't we just stay at the Red Keep? I'm sure Father would allow us a room in Maegor's Holdfast." that may be so but the Queen would disapprove of Robert's bastard son walking around the Red Keep.
Her grandson was as excited as a small boy, even more so than Little Walder. "Ser Pate, inquire the innkeeper for their best rooms, and supper," she ordered and the hedge knight left to see it done.
She didn't want to come all this way and would have preferred to remain home but she wouldn't let her heir leave on his own without her.
The streets were buzzing with people, as is the norm in such a large city. Pia helped her out of her wagon, Walda and Amerei giggling at the sight of all of the handsome knights walking around in their armor and pulling along their horses.
Tomorrow is sure to be entertaining.
Steffon opened the balcony doors of the larger room within the inn and was amazed by all the people, Shella thought it adorable, "I never really got to see the city before this, it's livelier than Harrenhal or Seagard."
"Give it time, the smell is sure to smack you in the nose. I remember Oswell reeked when he came home," she said with a laugh to the happy memory.
Truly, this is to be her first tourney since Walter put on, to her opinion, the greatest tourney in Westeros. Steffon shook his head and turned from the balcony and started for the door, "Don't go too far without a guard."
"I was going with Ser Pate and some others to put up his pavilion, he said he wanted to be where he could be ready right away." Shella shook her head, knights and their pomposity.
For a hedge knight, Pate has plenty of it as he wouldn't shut up about how he was going to knock even the kingsguard from their horses when they arrived and considered himself a legend despite his armor being worn and beaten up.
She nodded and Steffon took off to the tourney grounds.
The bustling atmosphere of King's Landing on the eve of the Crown Prince's name day was high.
The jousting grounds are a hive of activity, with knights and their attendants preparing for the grand event. Amidst the commotion, Steffon Whent, a seasoned knight with a keen eye for detail, is assisting Ser Pate in setting up his pavilion.
Steffon Whent carefully positioned the heavy canvas, ensuring it was taut and secured against the wind.
Ser Pate gave a graceful nod for the assistance, busy organizing his equipment, worn from years of service but reliable. Ser knight then checked his lance for any imperfections.
The sunlight glints off the armor of passing knights, and the air is filled with the sounds of metal clanging, horses neighing, and distant laughter from the nearby tents.
Steffon sat down on a stump belonging to a fallen tree, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the vibrant display of banners fluttering in the breeze.
The sheer number of houses represented at the tourney was impressive. It wasn't just a celebration of his half-brother's name day; it was a gathering of the realm's most powerful and influential families, each vying for honor and recognition in the eyes of the king.
His gaze swept over the sigil of House Royce, with its bronze and black iron runes of First Men. Nearby, the golden rose of House Tyrell waved proudly, as Steffon continued to survey the multitude of banners, he spotted the familiar crimson lion of House Lannister, the blue and white falcon of House Arryn, and the two towers of House Frey.
As Steffon absorbed the scene, a feeling of energy welled up in him then jumped up, remembering the important bits.
He pulled from his bag and unveiled the black bats of Whent, flying on a golden field and put it on a post then stuck it on the ground near Ser Pate's tent.
"Want some wine, milord?" Pate asked while coming out of the tent, Steffon took it and gulped some of the wine down. "I'll do my best to win the prize, I could participate in the melee too, if you wish?"
"No, can't risk you getting injured before the joust," he said and handed the knight back his skin of wine. "Just get some rest Ser and I will be here at first light to get you ready, I am your squire, after all." he bowed and the knight waved his hand as Steffon walked away.
Not returning to the inn right away, Steffon and the three retainers he had protecting him walked down the street of steel.
He admired the craftsmanship in most of the shops and stalls, the smell of freshly made steel swords going into buckets and troughs of water to cool and temper.
Coming up the hill he saw a boy near his age hammering away at a double-bladed ax.
Steffon noticed he was Tall and muscled, he had blue eyes and thick, black hair much like himself, Steffon shook his head and thought it a coincidence and turned his back to peruse the weapons on the shelf and the nice suits of armor and different shapes of shields from round ones to kites.
"Can I help you, milord?" an older man asked while coming from the building next to the smithy where that boy was working his mettle. "You want to buy a new set of armor, or perhaps a sword."
"No, I prefer glaives to swords," it sounds stupid coming from him since he has a sword on his hip.
"Oh, we have those as well, why I- Oh, Lord Hand!"
Turning side-face, Steffon saw the Hand of the King and a grim-looking man beside him. The Hand was equally surprised to see him, neither had seen each other since Steffon's grandmother brought him to get legitmised years ago.
"My Lords." Steffon bowed low.
"Lord Whent? What're you doing in King's Landing?" Jon asked with some curiosity.
"We came to see one of my grandmother's knights participate in the joust, Ser Pate of the Blue Fork." he explained and his lordship hummed a response, "I should return to the inn, good day, my Lords." he hurried away before he embarrassed himself.
Jon Arryn watched as Steffon left with his guards back down the street towards Eel Alley.
"So that's him? Robert's bastard son turned Lord of Harrenhal?" Stannis asked of and Jon nodded, he had not seen the boy since he came to get uplifted a few years ago.
Lady Shella must have done well for him, "He looks just like Robert, just like all of his bastard kin these last few weeks."
"More proof of my suspicions, we must tell Robert after this wretched tourney." Jon turned and wished he didn't need to ruin the peace of the kingdom but it seems that there is little choice in the matter.
In any event that Cersei is guilty, Robert's succession may be secure with his legitimized son.
"Come, Lord Stannis, we have business to conclude." the Hand and Master of Ships turned back to the blacksmith and the child still hammering away on the ax.
The night and morning came fast as Steffon rose from the feathered cot and started to dress, joining his people at breakfast.
He didn't tell his grandmother about the surprise encounter with the Hand, and nothing happened later on during supper so maybe the high lord kept it secret too. He slipped on his boots and threw his cloak over his shoulder, clasped around an onyx stone in the shape of a bat.
Going downstairs he ate with his household and later on the entourage left for the jousting grounds.
He expected to see Ser Pate up and ready, Amerei had left to join him last night and hadn't returned, "Ser Pate?" he called, and no answer. "Ser Pate?" he called again and silence was all that answered him other than the noise of clanking armor and hoof tracks from horses.
Angrily, he went inside and was shocked to see Ser Pate and Amerei's naked bodies clinging on to one another and vomit stains on Pate's cheek, and over a dozen bottles of wine around them.
His blood boiled at the idiot, though Amerei's form was pleasant. "You damned oaf."
As Steffon looked around the pavilion, his eyes settled on the knight's armor, gleaming under the sunlight shining from the tent flap. A sudden determination seized him. He couldn't let his House be tarnished by this drunken folly. If Ser Pate couldn't ride, then Steffon would.
"Walder! Come and help me with this," he called and his grandmother's page was all too glad to help.
With hurried yet careful movements, Steffon began to don the knight's armor. The weight of the mail and plate was unfamiliar, but his resolve carried him through. He adjusted the helm, fitting it snugly over his head, and strapped the shield to his arm. Finally, he took up Ser Pate's lance and walked out of the pavilion.
Outside, the tournament grounds buzzed with anticipation. Nobles and commoners alike filled the stands, eager for the spectacle of the joust. Steffon approached Pate's horse, a powerful destrier, and mounted with practiced ease. The horse snorted, sensing the unfamiliar rider, but Steffon's calm hand on the reins reassured the beast.
As he trotted towards the lists, Steffon felt a mix of fear and exhilaration. This was more than he expected to do, he was just supposed to be a squire, his grandmother was sure to chew his ear off. He knew the risks, but the thought of his glory drove him forward.
The herald announced Ser Pate's name, and Steffon raised his lance in acknowledgment. He faced his opponent, one of Aegon Frey's kin, Ser Perwyn. Steffon took a deep breath, focusing on the task ahead. He could hear the crowd's murmurs, the excitement palpable.
Up on the stands, he saw his father, his wife, and trueborn children, and below them was a bunch of nobles including Lord Arryn and the grim man who was with him.
"Good luck, Ser Pate, it's been a long time." Perwyn greeted and Steffon didn't know what to do so he gave a gruff grunt and turned his horse to go to his side of the list.
Little Walder ran up to him, "Good luck, My Lord, I mean Ser Pate." he chuckled and tightened his grip on his shield and lance.
The crowd's anticipation grew as the herald announced the start of the match. Steffon spurred the horse into a gallop, his focus locked on Perwyn's shield. The sound of hooves thundered through the air as both men charged towards each other.
With a resounding crash, Steffon's lance struck Perwyn's shield, splintering on impact. The force of the blow sent Perwyn tumbling from his horse, landing heavily on the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, the match was decisively won.
Without lifting his visor, Steffon smiled, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears. He felt a surge of confidence, certain that he could keep winning. The thrill of victory. As he dismounted, Steffon knew that this was just the beginning. He was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that he could keep winning and take the glory and the prize.
Looking up, he felt a tinge of jealousy, the King picked up his young son... It hurt.