The Prince's Tourney III

"Bring me more wine." My father ordered calmly as he sipped the wine in his golden chalice.

"Yes, your Grace." The servant girl did a small curtsey and turned to descend the platform with the flagon.

Paying no heed to that interaction, my mother, the Farman siblings, and I trained our eyes on the field as the first joust was about to commence.

It had been a little more than an hour since my father's speech, and finally, the first event of my tourney was underway.

I had never seen a jousting match before so I was very much interested in seeing how the renowned military sport worked or why European medieval cultures really loved it.

On the field, there were two tall men on horses facing each other in an opposite direction, separated by the thick wooden beam that lay at the center of the field.

They were both in gleaming brown suits of armor with helmets shielding their heads. The only distinction between them was that one of them had a thick brown shield with some special patterns while the other had a shield that depicted a brown bear standing in a green background.

Two men holding thick tall lances with blunted edges walked to each of them and gave them the lances.

The horses, covered with protective equipment, neighed, their hoofs scratching the padded field as the two knights balanced their lances, staring at each other with almost visible apprehension.

"On my left, we have Ser Bor of the Vale and on my right, we have Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. Contestants ready your lances!" A man dressed ostensibly shouted from the stands.

Immediately, the two knights made their weapons lie horizontally, and using their other hand, they shifted their shields to cover their openings.

"Charge!"

With a kick, their horses spurred forwards. Galloping, thunderous hoofbeats echoed all over, and excited, I watched them aim their lances at each other as gradually, they drew near.

Seconds passed and eventually, they came close to each other, their lances only a few meters away from hitting one another.

Suddenly, as both of their lances almost met, Jorah Mormont shifted his torso to the right and powerfully stabbed his lance through an angle that enable it to slip into his opponent's narrow opening. The lance hit Ser Bor's breastplate.

A loud thump and clank resounded as Ser Bor flew from his galloping horse and impacted the floor, his shield and lance out of his hands.

Some people came out of the stands to immediately check up on him since he wasn't moving while the crowd erupted in cheers for Jorah whose horse was now trotting majestically at the opposite side.

"Victory goes to Jorah Mormont!" The announcer bellowed and the person in question raised his shield, making the crowd clap and praise him more.

After the helpers carried the seemingly unconscious knight away, the victor moved away from the field on his brown horse.

This match was interesting, to say the least. It made my eyes widen especially when Ser Gor flew from his horse and hit the ground so hard that I could swear I heard a bone break.

Turning my head, I could see my father smiling as he continued to sip on his wine. I raised my head also and saw my mother with a small smile on her face. The Farman siblings practically had their eyes shining.

The first match was enough to get my blood boiling and I couldn't wait to see more. The tourney wouldn't be a disappointment after all...

I heard hoofbeats so I turned my eyes to the field once again. There were two knights on the field once again. One wore brown armor while the other wore a faded blue one, they both had helmets.

The one in the faded blue held a shield that depicted an almost naked blonde-haired woman in a blue background while the other had a regular black shield. The knight in the silver armor was taller and broader but it was evident that his apparel was of less quality.

An interesting match-up...

"On my left, we have Ser Mandom Piper of the Riverlands and on my left, we have Ser Dasken Waters of Claw Isle. Contestants ready your lances!"

At the sound of his voice, the knights positioned their weapons horizontally and adjusted their shields. I could see Ser Dasken tighten his thick fingers on the handle of the lance.

"Charge!"

The horses instantly galloped, carrying the riders towards one another. In seconds, they were in each other's reach. Ser Mandon tried to thrust his lance but Ser Dasken was faster, shooting his lance towards Ser Mandon's shoulder.

Before it could hit him, Ser Mandon raised his shield and managed to block the strike, breaking the edge of the lance, but he underestimated the force behind it.

Thus, he got sent backward and fell on the ground with a thud while his horse continued to move. The crowd cheered as Ser Dasken raised his broken lance while Ser Mandon got up after a little struggle, the helpers were already at his side but he pushed them away angrily and walked away.

After this, some other matches followed but they were unimpressive unlike the first two. I didn't understand the sport very well but sitting through those mediocre fights, I eventually got a grasp on the overall rules and how the winners were declared if no one was unhorsed.

A strike to the shield rewarded one point and a strike to more vital areas such as the neck, the shoulders, the chest, the hips, etc, or even if the strike managed to jostle the opponent afforded two points.

Three charges were the limit so the rider with the most points after the three charges would be declared the winner. It was a simple but deadly game that tested your endurance, balance, strength, maneuverability, and control.

So far I hadn't seen any deaths yet but from the mumblings of my father, I knew that sooner or later someone would die eventually and that would be the fun part.

"My little lion, look it's your uncle Jaime." My mother whispered cooly, her voice brimming with excitement like a young girl.

My uncle Jaime was seated on a black stallion, donned in a red and black bright suit of armor that had its pauldrons, the top of his helmet, and breastplate shaped into a lion's head.

He looked ferocious and dangerous as he took his lance from the man's hand, his shield that showed a golden lion in a red background in his left hand.

His opponent was Jorah Mormont, the winner of the first joust. Due to his size, he looked stronger than my uncle but due to my uncle's unique armor, their dangerous image was nonetheless the same.

"I bet you a thousand gold dragons that your brother would be unhorsed by the Mormont." My father turned to my mother and commented with a confident smile.

"We'll see." My mother replied with a smile, an unwavering smile that held full confidence in my uncle's victory.

Seeing and hearing this, my father snorted and downed his cup of wine. At the side, the Farman twins were whispering, giggling as they did so.

I couldn't help but focus all my attention on this match. I had heard stories from my mother of how good my uncle was as a swordsman and a fighter in general, he was a one-in-a-million prodigy she said.

So I was eager to see how much that was true. Was she just saying that because of personal bias or it was the truth?

Well, I was going to see that very soon...

"On my left, we have Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, the winner of the first joust, and on my right, we have Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. Ready your lances!"

My uncle and Jorah Mormont headed the announcer's command immediately and started staring at each other, their horses ready to charge as they breathed loudly.

A gust of wind flew over them, making the tails of their horses flutter and when it passed, a shout echoed.

"Charge!"

Like a speeding bullet, the horses shot forwards with large momentum, their booming movement sounding everywhere.

The horses brought them in acceptable reach and quickly, Jorah Mormont thrusted his lance heavily but my uncle shifted and blocked the strike with his shield, breaking the lance's blunted edge with a crack.

The force was huge but my uncle steadied himself on his steed and progressed forwards, making them pass each other.

Jorah stretched his hand to the stands and a man speedily brought him another lance while he turned his horse to face my uncle with the reins.

Without wasting time, he spurred his horse forward and it galloped towards my uncle once again.

They came into each other's reach in seconds and it looked like my uncle would be hit once again since he looked relaxed. My mother's arms were even trembling and I didn't need to look at her face to know she was nervous.

Just as Jorah Mormont's lance was about to hit my uncle, in that split second, my uncle made his body lie diagonally, dodging the strike.

The next second, he pushed his lance forward at fast speeds, and being unable to dodge, the lance hit Jorah Mormont in the neck, pushing him out of his horse. He fell with a thump.

The crowd went ballistic as they screamed hysterically, praising my uncle as he straightened himself on his horse. The Farman siblings were furiously clapping at the side while my mother sighed in relief.

Turning to my father, I could see a small frown on his face but it disappeared the next second as he downed another cup of wine.

The helpers helped the fallen Knight to his feet and carried him away as he massage his neck protected by a deformed neck guard.

"Victory goes to Ser Jaime Lannister!"