Chapter 18 : Winner's reward

"Hey, aren't you a maester?" one spectator called out, a mixture of surprise and disbelief clear in his voice.

I paused for a moment, my attention to the spectator, away from the melee unfolding around me.

"An apprentice, technically," I replied, a wry smile playing on my lips. "But one who's more renowned and smarter than ninety per cent of Maesters."

There was a muttered curse from the crowd, followed by a ripple of murmurs as they processed my response.

A small duck to dodge the sword slash later, I told him, "It is improper to disturb when one's talking. But considering this is a fight, a point to you for using the distraction."

Unfortunately, Simba's experiences spoiled me from diverting focus because of distractions.

While the statement is contradictory, it is just the best way I could describe the Hunt of a big cat carnivore.

A swing of my Gada blocked the sword slash, but it didn't end there. The brute force that was worth 5 years of painful training sent him skidding back.

It was a refreshing change to face a human opponent after contending with the overpowered magical lions and tigers.

BANG

With a powerful overhead strike, I sent my opponent to his knees, his hands twitching in shock and pain from parrying my mace strike.

Despite feeling a twinge of pity at his condition, I followed the rules of combat. With a swift motion, I delivered the final blow, sending him into a peaceful slumber with the fifth swing of my mace in this fight with him.

BAMMM

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As the competition intensified, each exchange became a battle of wills and strength.

No longer could I dispatch my adversaries with ease; now, it took a dozen exchanges or more to emerge victorious from each confrontation.

Yet, even amid the chaos, I couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration that coursed through my veins with each swing of my weapon.

With a practised motion, I detached the head of my weapon, sending it swinging from a blind spot to strike the pair of opponents locked in a fierce sword fight. It was moments like these that made me question whether my penchant for violence stemmed from my nature or the influence of my bond with Simba.

A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that despite the ritual, Simba kept his pacifistic tendencies.

——————

As the field cleared, leaving only six contenders standing, including Heir Ormund and the Tarly squire, I felt the weight of exhaustion settle upon me. But there is no rest for the wicked.

As we circled each other, sizing up our opponents with wary glances, I couldn't shake the feeling of irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

And true to my cursed luck, the most skilled among us wasted no time in targeting me directly.

"Looks like you've got yourself a dance partner, Kerith," one of the other competitors remarked with a smirk, clearly enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him.

I gritted my teeth in response, focusing all my attention on the opponent before me. "Let's see what you've got," I muttered under my breath, tightening my grip on my Gada as I prepared for the onslaught.

The first strike came swiftly from the right, catching me off guard with its speed and ferocity. Reacting instinctively, I raised my weapon to defend myself, feeling the impact reverberate through my hands.

But before I could fully recover from the clash, the next strike came, this time from the left. I cursed inwardly, realizing too late that he had used the force from our previous clash to pivot and attack from a different angle.

Thinking quickly, I shifted the position of my Gada, using the handle to block the incoming blow.

To my relief, the handle afforded me greater manoeuvrability, allowing me to deflect the attack with more finesse than before.

I felt the blade of his sword dragging across the handle towards my arm, but I used my steel gauntlet to block the blow just in time. "Thank the gods for Garhammer's craftsmanship," I muttered, feeling a surge of gratitude for the sturdy armour protecting me from Ormund's Valyrian steel sword, Vigilance.

As the battle raged on, Ormund continued to exploit every weakness he could find, leaving a trail of scratches on my armour as evidence of his relentless assault. His strikes targeted the bulkiness of my weapon, my lack of combat experience, and my diminishing stamina. With each blow, I felt the weight of my inadequacies pressing down on me.

Forced to match his pace, I cursed under my breath as I increased the force behind my swings, hoping to create some space between us. "Seriously, are you really a one-and-six name day?" I taunted, frustration seeping into my words.

Ormund's response was a fierce roar, accompanied by a flurry of dodges, as he evaded my final sprint of attacks. "Is that something a one-and-two name-days Master may ask me while waving his absurd mace at me? Fuck you, asshole!" he bellowed, his voice dripping with disdain.

Unable to resist the opportunity to strike back, I retorted, "I don't swing that way, Heir Ormund. No worries, I'll find you a companion with the softest pillow." It was a calculated insult, meant to hit him where it hurt the most in our reputation-driven society.

As Ormund swung for my head once more, I saw my chance. With a calculated move, I blocked his strike with the handle of my Gada, dropping to one knee in a display of apparent exhaustion. It was all part of the plan.

"Say, Heir Ormund, did you notice any ornament on my forehead?" I asked innocently, drawing his attention to my hair bangs.

Ormund's expression shifted from surprise to confusion as he focused on my forehead, attempting to discern any hidden ornamentation.

Little did he know that behind the veil of my hair lay the silver-steel Bandana.

Without giving him a moment to react, I swiftly withdrew my head and brought it crashing forward to the Steel ball of my Gada.

BANG

Despite the slight haziness, the resounding thud of my mace's detachable head hitting his chest carried a sense of satisfaction.

"AGH!"

The sudden and powerful collision left him momentarily dazed and open to attack.

Seizing the opportunity, I deftly wrapped the chain of my weapon around his hand, wrenching it sideways and forcing him to release the hold on his sword.

CLATTER

I watched as the blade clattered to the ground. Noticing its position, I showed the greatest talent of a Feline carnivore.

It's remarkable neuromuscular coordination, commonly called agility.

With my grip firm on the handle of my mace, I rolled forward, seamlessly transitioning into position behind Ormund.

In one fluid motion, I brought Vigilance, his own sword, to bear against his neck, its edge poised threateningly.

As Ormund regained his senses, he stared down at the blade of his own weapon, gripped at his throat. The realization of his defeat dawned upon him, his eyes widening in disbelief.

I stood amidst the aftermath of the melee, my breaths measured as I tried to conceal the weariness that gnawed at my bones. My gaze swept over the remaining contestants, and a curse escaped my lips when I saw the Tarly squire standing alone, the others having fallen to the wayside.

Were they blind to the obvious strategy of outnumbering the strongest opponent?

Yet, to my surprise, the Tarly squire made a move that caught me off guard. He cast aside his weapons and raised his hands in surrender. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, and a chuckle bubbled up from within me. "Smart move," I muttered, acknowledging his shrewdness.

Turning my attention to Heir Ormund, I saw the begrudging acceptance of defeat written on his face as he yielded to the outcome of our duel. With a nod, I released him and returned his Valyrian steel sword, a symbol of his status and pride.

As I adjusted my Gada, my thoughts raced, piecing together the reason for Tarly squire's actions - Politics.

The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning: Ormund's reputation hung in the balance, standing on the edge of ruin after his defeat at the hands of a mere Maester apprentice, me.

The implications were dire for a political family like Hightowers, for in the eyes of the court and the common folk alike, his defeat at a scholar meant incompetence.

Yet, even if Tarly were to emerge victorious against me in a hypothetical match, the damage to Ormund's reputation would be irreversible.

It would only underscore the notion that I, the apprentice, was nothing exceptional—a blow that would further tarnish Ormund's standing for his defeat at my hands.

I really was not aiming at winning the melee when I took part. I just never expected this fortune.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. 

So, the only way to save Ormund's reputation is by showing me as someone special. The easiest is to show me as the winner. The reason he is bothered about Ormund's reputation becomes clear with one piece of knowledge.

Because as far as I know, Ormund's wife is a Tarly in the canon.

Even those with little brains can guess they are vying for an alliance at this stage. With the favour he had done them now, the alliance was in a snowball process of being sealed. Looking at the coughing Ormund, I inwardly felt he should be thankful to me for sealing his wife's position early.

I believe as long as I win more tourneys or as my warrior reputation grows, any defeat at my hands will no longer be considered an insult.

I heard the crowd grow silent as Lord Hightower approached with a scholarly man at his side, bearing a resemblance to him. My heart beat hard at the foreboding of the next event.

——Ormund's Pov———

Anger and humiliation burned within me as I made my way off the field, my defeat at the hands of Kerith gnawing at my pride.

Glancing back, I saw him nonchalantly inspecting his scarred weapon, seemingly indifferent to the curious gazes directed his way.

"Ormund, wait," my Uncle Otto's voice called out, halting my steps. I turned to see him and my father, Lord Hightower, approaching.

"What is it?" I asked, my frustration clear in my tone.

"So, are you angry?😡 "

"Of course, I am. I lost the melee to a virtual unknown before today. An apprentice in the citadel, according to his shouts in the middle of the melee."

"Perhaps, but he is not truly unknown. You see, I first heard of him a long time ago. I followed his path since I received a message from the Hightower Archmaester."

I remembered the unofficial hereditary archmaester position belonging to Hose Hightower in Citadel.

I am quite shocked at the things that uncle said the next moment- A genius healer, having proficiency in every subject offered by the citadel and even the best in healing and history, and most importantly wealth from his invention and sea lord's favor.

"And he used the favor well. As far as I know, he made two more trips to Braavos, keeping the contact alive and even making new ones using the reputation he has as a healer from the incident with the Sea Lord's son. Now, combine with his victory here, consider his potential, Ormund."

Uncle Otto explained his reasoning for supporting Kerith, his eyes gleaming with his famed wit.

"He possesses a unique talent and nature that could benefit us greatly. For example, putting the idiots with loose tongues in place, reputation.........."

I listened as Otto elaborated on Kerith's abilities and the advantages of bringing him into our circle.

Despite my resentment, I couldn't deny the logic in his words

"He will rise high, mark my words," Otto continued, his conviction unwavering, "And when he does, he will owe us a favor. So, let's knight him. But remember, even that wouldn't buy his loyalty. Because men of talent and strength consider even a lifelong achievement as knighthood as a matter of time. We would hold a favor from him to leverage when needed."

I seriously listened to his advice because there was another person who accumulated knowledge in every field like Kerith. He then raised the wealth and power of this house to the level of the sea snake.

The same sea snake that risked his life 9 times, and traveled the world to bring wealth to his house. I heard stories he sold our commonly placed goods for the worth of diamonds and rubies. He at the same time brought back spices for coppers and sold for thousands of gold dragons.

But this knowledgeable man matched Sea Snake with just sitting in the comforts of his home. However, Sea Snake won out in the end by leveraging family ties to marry the Targaryen princess.

Still, my uncle's unparalleled wisdom was acknowledged throughout the known world for the challenge he posed to Sea Snake.

If it's worth it in his option, so be it.

"Brother," Father interrupted, his voice firm yet measured. "We must consider Maegor the Cruel's precedent. The Conqueror's appointment of him as the youngest knight caused controversy and unrest. Should we invite similar scrutiny by knighting someone as young as Kerith? The memory of Maegor still lingers in the realm's minds."

His words struck a chord within me, stirring doubts about the potential consequences of our actions.

The question is not whether it can be done, but whether the benefits outweigh the consequences. Such is the main creed of every politician.

Uncle Otto was known for his strategic thinking. He smiled confidently, his gaze steady. "If knighting Kerith can protect our interests and restore our reputation, it might be a risk worth taking," he said. "Besides, I believe Kerith has enough talent to rise to the occasion. This will showcase the capabilities of our vision. Brother, remember that successful people seize opportunities while others fail. This is our chance, even if it seems crazy. Trust my wisdom."

Father sighed, "Brother, when brilliance reaches a certain threshold, it will feel like madness to the average person. You, being a prodigy, cannot grasp that ordinary individuals, whether they are small folk or nobles, cannot understand your decision and the thought behind them. You genius will appear as craziness to them, and it swiftly instills terror and animosity."

Uncle Otto laughed and said, " That's why together we are invincible brother, you are the anchor to my genius. Alone, I wonder where my talent will take me. Maybe it will burn down the world."

I felt a chill in my spine, wondering if it was a symptom of the prophetic talent in our blood. Then, I pushed such absurdity away. I mean, my genial uncle doing such ridiculous things is impossible.

If it becomes the truth, the next thing I know, the rumours of my family's magic capabilities hidden only to the Lord will be true.

——Kerith's Pov, -

As Lord Hightower approached me, the gleaming blade of vigilance held solemnly in his grasp, a shiver of nervous anticipation ran down my spine. The cheers of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as he motioned for me to kneel before him.

"Kneel," his voice commanded, carrying the weight of centuries of tradition and honor.

With a sense of reverence, I complied, feeling the cool grass beneath my knees as I lowered myself before him. The significance of this moment was not lost on me; it was as if the very essence of fate itself had converged upon this singular point in time.

Lord Hightower's voice rang out, each word spoken with a clarity that resonated across the field.

"Do you swear to protect the innocent, to uphold justice, and to defend the realm against all threats, foreign and domestic?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice unwavering as I made my solemn oath to uphold the sacred duties of knighthood.

"And do you swear to show mercy to the vanquished, to be courageous in the face of adversity, and to remain steadfast in your commitment to honour and integrity?"

"Yes,"

Lord Hightower nodded and ended the ceremony.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave

In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just

In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent

In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women

In the Crone's name, I charge you to respect the laws of gods and men

In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be diligent" "

With a deep breath, I announced the vow to the last god, "I will uphold these vows until the day I meet the Stranger."

Lord Hightower roared out, " Arise Ser Kerith, a knight of the realm!"

As I rose to my feet, the deafening cheers of the crowd enveloped me, their voices rising in a cacophony of celebration.

"Hail Healer Kerith ,"

"the Brightest healer. "

I reminisced about the first title, given by Sealord on that day. Still, the cheers grew wilder without restraint.

" Hail, the kid,"

" Kid, Visit my brothel. I will charge you less for the celebrations."

Laugh came to my mouth at that. I heard a sudden whisper, "You owe me, little Kerith" "

I turned to the source to see the receding back of Otto Hightower. A headache came to me at this troublesome debt.

Still, it was put into the back of my mind with the next event-

Despite the initial discordance, the cheers soon harmonized under the urging of the announcer, whose presence I only now realized.

Which is a bad sign for an announcer. I mean, he doesn't have enough presence despite being an announcer.

But despite his shortcomings, I found myself grateful to him, for it was he who gave upon me a title that I would carry with pride in the days to come.

"HAIL SER KERITH, THE BRIGHTEST HEALER, THE MASTER OF COMBAT!"

""" Hail, The Maester of Combat,"

""" Hail, The Maester of Combat,"

""" Hail, The Maester of Combat,"

""" Hail, The Maester of Combat,"

Feeling the adoration of hundreds, I felt a sense of joy and accomplishment beyond words, because this was gained by pure hard work, unlike the Maester chains I got because of luck. Yes, I was lucky to have kept my memories and had an AI to become a child genius, but this knighthood is my sweat and tears.

I roared out in joy, " I am Ser Kerith."