Chapter 42: The Best Smithy in King’s Landing

The news of Lynd's knighthood spread through King's Landing the next day, sparking a mix of envy and resentment. Many warriors, still seeking their own chance at knighthood, were left bitter by the tale of a fifteen-year-old who had achieved this honor after just a few months as a squire—and by none other than the king himself. Rumors began to swirl, with some questioning whether Lynd might secretly be the bastard son of a noble rather than the son of a humble hunter, as the Song of the Bear Hunter claimed.

The jealousy wasn't limited to ordinary soldiers. Even free knights and sellswords who had competed in the tournament felt envious.

Lynd's rise to knighthood came with the opportunity to swear fealty to a feudal lord, specifically becoming a personal attendant to House Tyrell. This meant a steady income and the prospect of becoming a landed knight or even a minor lord in the future.

However, the mood shifted when news broke that Lynd had declined King Robert's offer to join the Kingsguard. The envy turned to ridicule, with many scoffing at what they saw as a foolish decision. They believed the boy from the countryside had failed to grasp the prestige and lifelong honor of serving as a Kingsguard, thus squandering his chance to ascend quickly to the top ranks of the realm.

Despite the ridicule, Lynd remained a figure of admiration for many, especially among the common folk. His story had already taken on a legendary quality. Bards eagerly expanded the Song of the Bear Hunter, incorporating Lynd's exploits in the Red Keep and singing the tale in taverns across the city, earning considerable coin in the process. Merchants carried his name and story beyond King's Landing, spreading it across the Seven Kingdoms and even hinting at its arrival in Essos.

Yet, the subject of all this attention remained unfazed. Lynd's newfound status had not altered his routine. The day after his knighthood, he led his cavalry out to train in the outskirts of King's Landing, focusing on hunting and obedience drills. Upon returning to camp, he resumed his studies under the new Maester assigned by Lord Tyrell. His days were packed, leaving little room for indulgence in his rising fame.

In the afternoon, a herald from King's Landing visited the Tyrell camp to record Lynd's family name and coat of arms. Having already prepared for this, Lynd promptly described his chosen design: a red background featuring a sword plunged into the ground, with the unique addition of a Chinese character, Li, at the sword's hilt—a nod to his surname from his previous life. He also selected "Tarran" as his knightly surname.

The herald, surprised by Lynd's readiness, swiftly completed the record. Typically, new knights took days to decide such matters, often opting for the name of a defunct noble house to give the illusion of a grand lineage. Before leaving, the herald was stopped by Lynd, who inquired if a family motto was needed as well. The herald, giving Lynd a bemused look, departed without answering. Lynd realized he had committed a faux pas, further proof that he had much to learn about the customs and manners of this world's nobility.

Meanwhile, the jousting tournament resumed, drawing a far larger crowd than the previous day. The open spaces on the surrounding hills were packed, and eager spectators even climbed trees for better vantage points. With the group battles concluded, the jousting offered the thrill the people craved. The matches were of higher quality and intensity than before, as the less skilled competitors had already been eliminated. Those who remained were elite knights, ensuring fierce and captivating contests.

One such match took place in the morning, featuring Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, against a mysterious knight from across the Narrow Sea. The duel was a spectacle, with the two exchanging blows seven times and breaking three lances before Jaime ultimately emerged victorious.

The excitement surrounding the knightly competition was so intense that the audience momentarily forgot Jaime Lannister's notorious reputation as the Kingslayer, erupting in cheers after his victory.

Another duel that morning featured Vortimer, who faced a knight from House Marbrand of the Westerlands.

This match was far less dramatic than Jaime's. The disparity in skill was evident as Vortimer unseated his opponent in a single round. However, his fortune turned in the afternoon when he faced Barristan the Bold. After two rounds, Barristan's lance struck Vortimer's chest, toppling him from his horse. Thankfully, the injuries were minor, and he quickly recovered.

Out of the knights representing House Tyrell, only one advanced to the quarterfinals: Jon Bulwer of House Bulwer, Lord of Blackcrown.

Jon, the third son of Lord Bulwer and currently serving as third affairs officer under Roger Redwyne in Highgarden, made it to the final eight more through luck than skill. Slightly stronger than the average knight, Jon was expected to be eliminated early. Yet, fate favored him: his opponents suffered equipment malfunctions or withdrew due to prior injuries. Thus, he earned his spot in the quarterfinals with minimal effort, earning the nickname "Lucky Bulwer."

Despite Jon's advancement, House Tyrell felt embarrassed by the circumstances. Only one knight had made it this far, and his success was largely seen as undeserved. Mace Tyrell, still brooding over his earlier defeat by Vortimer, cast a shadow over the camp with his dour mood.

Fortunately, this tension lifted after Lord Tyrell returned from a meeting with Lord Jon Arryn at the Red Keep. He was noticeably in good spirits, his grim expression replaced with a constant smile. Upon his return, Lord Tyrell gathered his advisers for a meeting in his tent, discussing what seemed to be an important matter.

Lynd was curious about the topic of their discussion, but the tent was heavily guarded, making it impossible to eavesdrop. Besides, Lynd had other priorities. He tasked Raul with finding the best smithy in King's Landing. That evening, Raul returned with the information and led Lynd to the Street of Steel, at the base of Visenya's Hill.

The Street of Steel was alive with activity. The tournament had damaged the weapons and armor of many knights, causing the smithies to work non-stop. The sound of hammers striking metal rang through the air, while blazing furnaces illuminated the street. The constant clamor had even driven some residents to temporarily relocate to quieter areas.

Raul brought Lynd to a particularly large smithy, which stood out from the others. The building, constructed of wood and stone, was coated with a layer of lime for protection. Its heavy ebony and weirwood door looked imposing, and its three-story height allowed it to dominate the Street of Steel.

However, as Lynd stepped inside, he was met with disappointment. Unlike the bustling forges outside, this smithy was eerily quiet. The furnace was unlit, and the interior felt cold and desolate—a stark contrast to the lively activity of the neighboring shops.

"Is this the best smithy in King's Landing you were told about?" Lynd asked, his tone laced with doubt.

Raul looked embarrassed, then angrily shouted into the shop, "Is there anyone here? Anyone? We've got a customer!"

As Raul's voice echoed through the seemingly empty smithy, Lynd's eyes were drawn to a row of knightly swords hanging on the wall, their craftsmanship intriguing him. After a few moments, an old man, supported by a servant, hobbled out from the back of the shop.

"We're closed," the old man grumbled, his voice rough and impatient. "Go somewhere else if you need something made."

"Are you Clint Mott, the best smith in King's Landing?" Raul asked, his confusion evident as he scrutinized the elderly figure.

"Once the best," Clint replied with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Now? Do you think I can even lift a hammer?" He gestured weakly to his frail frame.

Raul's face darkened, and he muttered a curse under his breath, clearly upset with whoever had recommended the smithy. Meanwhile, Lynd, undeterred, pointed to the swords on the wall.

"Can I take one and try it?" he asked, his interest piqued.

The old man hesitated, surprised by the request, before nodding. "Go ahead. Try whatever you want. If you like one, I'll even give you a discount—I've been meaning to clear them out anyway."

Lynd selected two of the swords and stepped outside to the open space adjacent to the shop, an area clearly designated for testing weapons. He began to wield the swords, his movements fluid and precise as he performed the Swordsmanship of the Banished Knight. As he swung the blades, the memories and instincts ingrained in his body came alive. Every strike felt natural, as if he had been practicing for decades.

Those watching were captivated. Raul, who had often sparred with Lynd, was stunned. He had seen Lynd's dual swordsmanship before, but back then it had been grounded in conventional techniques. Lynd's success was largely due to his strategic footwork and ability to exploit weaknesses.

This, however, was entirely different.

Now, Lynd wielded two massive knight's greatswords with the ease of daggers. Each swing generated a visible wind pressure, sharp and forceful enough that even Raul, standing safely outside the range of the blades, felt his skin prickle as though grazed by an invisible knife. The sharp gusts even caused strands of Raul's hair to snap and fall, as if severed by the air itself.

It was a level of swordsmanship far beyond human limits. Raul couldn't help but think that if Lynd had used this technique in the tournament, he wouldn't have needed strategy—he could have simply overpowered every opponent with brute force.

Clint Mott and his servant, who knew the weight and balance of greatswords better than anyone, were utterly dumbfounded. The old smith was especially stunned. He had forged such weapons for years and knew their heft intimately; even the strongest knights struggled to wield them with one hand. Yet here was Lynd, not just lifting two greatswords but performing intricate, airborne techniques with them. It defied logic. Clint could only stare, an uneasy thought creeping into his mind—that Lynd was less a man and more a monster in human guise.

Lynd stopped after completing the basic forms of the Banished Knight's Swordsmanship. He didn't move on to more advanced techniques, as those required the extraordinary powers granted by the Dragonrunes and the Dragon Communion Ritual. Without such enhancements, they were little more than ornamental displays.

Satisfied, Lynd examined the swords in his hands. While they were not Valyrian steel, their weight and balance were excellent, making them suitable as temporary replacements. More importantly, the exercise confirmed the profound changes brought about by the Dragon Communion Ritual.

Previously, such feats would have been beyond him. His stamina and strength would have faltered long before finishing the routine. Now, he wasn't even winded. His physical fitness had grown to an inhuman degree, and he could feel the transformation continuing. Until the effects of the ritual fully stabilized, his body would only grow stronger. It left him wondering if he might one day reach the heights of the Banished Knights in his memories—warriors powerful enough to slay dragons.

"Who... who are you?" Clint finally asked, his voice trembling as he regained his senses.

Before Lynd could answer, Raul stepped forward, adopting the confident demeanor of a proper squire. "This is Ser Lynd Tarran, champion of the team competition and a knight personally knighted by His Grace the King."

Clint and his servant gasped audibly. Their eyes widened, filling with awe and disbelief as they looked at Lynd. Beneath their astonishment was a newfound reverence.