Melee and mystrey knight

The sun blazed down on the melee square as peasants, knights, and lords gathered to witness the event. Though lacking in grandeur, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. The participants were largely unknown, with only Ser Patrek Mallister and Ser Hobber Redwyne among the decent knights. Yet, standing out were the legendary Lord Yohn Royce, flanked by his sons Ser Andar and Ser Robar, along with Thoros of Myr, renowned for his skills.

king Robert Baratheon, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, sat upon his dais, one hand wrapped around a jug of wine, the other toying distractedly with a pretty young maid. Even the king's interest seemed to wane, until the melee began in earnest.

As the contestants flooded into the arena, the House Frey knights quickly adapted their strategy, planning to eliminate threats before turning on each other. Patrek Mallister and Ser Hobber Redwyne maintained a decent distance, sizing up their opponents. Lord Yohn Royce stood before an unknown knight, who bore a spear and shield emblazoned with a golden sun rising over a red mountan intriguing figure to be sure. Thoros clutched a cheap steel sword, its blade flickering with wildfire.

With a determined stride, Lord Yohn approached the mysterious knight. His sons attempted to surround him, but the knight halted their advance. In an instant, he lowered his body behind his shield and closed the distance, bashing his shield against the old lord. Caught by surprise, Yohn stumbled, the force of the blow sending him tumbling to the ground. Ser Andar rushed to help his father, while Ser Robar charged at the knight, sword drawn.

In a fluid motion, the knight kicked Robar's shield, sending the younger son crashing to the earth beside his father. The crowd erupted in cheers, reveling in the display of strength. A hush fell over the crowd, broken only by the clash of steel as Ser Robar charged the crimson knight, his sword flashing the mysterious knight, Narcius, swung his spear in a horizontal arc.

Andar managed to block the tip, but the back of the spear struck his helmet, forcing it down over his eyes. striking the young Royce with the flat of his spear, knocking him to the ground.

Lord Yohn, struggling to rise, felt a foot press into his back, pinning him to the ground. The cold tip of the spear pressed against the nape of his neck.

"Do you yield?"

"We yield," came the resigned reply.

Meanwhile, Patrek Mallister, Hobber Redwyne, and Thoros defended against the Freys, casting wary glances behind them for the looming threat of Narcius. To their surprise, the knight showed no interest in exploiting the Royces' swift defeat.

The melee pressed on under the harsh sun, the crowd buzzing with excitement. As the Frey knights fell to the coordinated efforts of Patrek Mallister and Ser Hobber Redwyne, Thoros of Myr moved with surprising agility, evading blows and striking back as he wielded his cheap steel sword.

With the Freys quickly overwhelmed, the field cleared to reveal only four remaining contestants: Patrek, Hobber, Thoros, and the enigmatic knight Narcius. The crowd shifted their focus, eager to see how this final confrontation would unfold.

Patrek and Hobber exchanged quick glances, understanding they needed a plan. They approached Thoros, forming a loose alliance. Meanwhile, Narcius stood at the edge of the arena, his spear resting at his side, watching them closely.

"Let's take him on together," Patrek suggested.

Thoros nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "We'll need to be careful. He's not just any knight."

Together, they advanced toward Narcius. As they approached, he suddenly lunged forward, spear slicing through the air. Thoros sidestepped, barely avoiding the strike, while Patrek charged in, aiming for Narcius's side.

Hobber stayed back, ready to support. Narcius was quick, dodging Patrek's thrust and responding with a sharp jab of his spear.

The ground shook with the clash of steel as they fought. Thoros, moving behind Narcius, swung his sword, but the knight pivoted, parrying with his spear and countering with a blow that sent Thoros to the ground.

Patrek took the chance to strike again, landing a hit on Narcius's shoulder. The knight grunted but remained steady.

"Is that all you've got?" Narcius taunted, his confidence evident.

Hobber saw an opportunity. "Together!" he called, urging his companions to join forces. They charged, trying to overwhelm Narcius, but he was ready.

In a flurry of movement, Narcius parried their strikes, his spear moving fluidly. The crowd watched, captivated by the skill on display.

Fatigue began to set in, but the three knights pressed on. Thoros, recovering from his fall, circled the fray, looking for an opening. Patrek and Hobber feigned attacks, trying to create a moment of vulnerability.

With a sudden burst of energy, Thoros leaped in, aiming for Narcius's side. The knight barely managed to pivot, but Thoros's blade found a shallow cut along his arm.

Narcius growled, frustration evident, and retaliated, driving the three knights back, his spear a blur of motion.

The crowd roared, the tension thickening as the four knights continued their fierce struggle. Each was determined, aware that only one could emerge victorious in this contest of skill and will. With one last rallying cry, they surged forward, ready for whatever came next.

Suddenly, Narcius abandoned his spear, a bold move that caught everyone off guard. With a swift motion, he lunged at Thoros, grabbing him by the waist and lifting him like a ragdoll. The crowd gasped as he threw Thoros towards Hobber, the two knights crashing together in a tangle of limbs.

As they fell to the ground, Narcius turned his attention to Patrek. With a quick stride, he closed the distance and delivered a powerful punch to Patrek's helmet. The impact echoed through the arena, and Patrek staggered back, the blow denting his helm and leaving him momentarily dazed.

Before he could regain his balance, darkness enveloped him as he lost consciousness, collapsing to the ground. The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and shocked gasps, witnessing the sudden turn of events.

With both Thoros and Patrek out of the fight, only Hobber remained standing, still recovering from the impact. Narcius, now looking down at his fallen opponents, moved with purpose, ready to finish what he had started. The atmosphere was electric, tension hanging in the air as the last knight prepared for the final moments of the melee.

Suddenly, Narcius hurled his shield like a spear at Hobber's stomach. The impact was brutal; Hobber felt as if he had been struck by a dragon. The force knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the ground, losing consciousness almost instantly.

The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound echoing through the melee square. They couldn't believe the display of strength from the mysterious knight. King Robert Baratheon, who had been distractedly fondling the maid, dropped his wine, his attention fully captured by the spectacle. He laughed heartily, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Not even a mountain could throw a man like that!" he exclaimed, enjoying the chaos unfolding before him.

With Patrek and Hobber down, and Thoros still struggling to recover from his earlier encounter, Narcius stood tall, the last knight remaining in the arena. The cheers of the crowd swelled, a mix of admiration and exhilaration for the spectacle they had just witnessed. The melee had reached its thrilling conclusion, leaving the audience buzzing with excitement and anticipation for what would come next.

Narcius approached the dais where King Robert and Queen Cersei sat, flanked by other nobles. The queen's expression was a mixture of disdain and anger, clearly displeased with her husband's indiscretions in plain sight. The nobles watched with rapt attention, their eyes widening as Narcius removed his helmet, revealing his striking features—a blend of strength and nobility that left the crowd in awe,The true visage of nobalty.

"Your Grace," he began, his voice steady and resolute. "My name is Narcius of House Olympain of Skagos. I am the bastard-born son of Lord Magnar of House Magnar of Kinghall. I built my own fort on one of the mountains of Skagos, and I have come here to swear allegiance to you as the first of House Olympain, if you would accept my spear and pay homage to my liege lord, Lord Eddard Stark."