Chapter 11 - The Squire's Melee

Chapter 11 - The Squire's Melee

"Name and house?" The attendant in front of me looked at my get-up, seeming not very certain about the fact that I could participate in the normal melee. Right now I also must have looked ridiculous, with only the black gambeson and the scarf on my person.

"None needed," I said and threw him two silver stags. He looked at them and then smiled before pocketing them.

"A mystery knight then, eh? Trying to enarmour the ladies in the crowd?" I scoffed and shook my head.

"I am just looking forward to a proper fight," I said and then gave him a small iron coin I had personally smithed.

"This will be my trademark when I return here, alright mate?" I was thankful that my voice was slowly starting to get deeper and the scarf also somewhat changed it, otherwise, I might have died of embarrassment. The man looked at the coin and let out a whistle.

"Are you a highborn Ser? Such things cost quite a lot?" I smiled at him behind the scarf and made a vague gesture.

"I am, at least partially." I turned around and walked away from the desk where the contestants had to sign up for the normal melee that would be held on the second day of the tourney. It might have been a bit crazy of me to apply to both the squire's melee and the normal one, but both were chances that could give me the chance to be interesting enough for someone higher up the ladder. And of course, the rewards were nothing to be scoffed at as well. 2000 Gold Dragons for the winner of the norma melee, along with other prizes for the second and third place, and 250 Gold Dragons for the winner of the squire's melee, though in the latter the ages of the participants were checked to make sure no one that wasn't a squire made easy money.

I had already put some considerable distance between me and the wooden construct and quickly pulled off my scarf before I made a sharp turn and ran to the section of the camp where the Tullys were stationed. When I arrived I could already hear the enranged voice of Desmond that greeted me.

"Where have you been?!" The older man grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me with surprising strength, but I raised my hands.

"I've been training my stamina!" I said and pointed at the gambeson.

"I rarely fight in armor, I at least wanted to get used to it!" My excuse wasn't the best, but it was partially right. I had run into King's Landing, bought myself some of the equipment I would later use in the melee, ran to the arena to sign me up for the melee, and then ran back to the camp.

Desmond didn't seem to quite believe me, but then let me go with a slight groan before he threw me my blunted bastard sword.

"Here, you will warm up and I will prepare your equipment. But never let this happen again. It's not a knight's duty to take care of his squire's armor." I nodded, bowing slightly.

"Thank you, Ser Desmond, I will buy a round for you when I win the melee." Desmond chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"You mean "if" you win Donar. And that's a large if" I just shook my head, already testing the sword in my hand with a few experimental swings.

"There's nothing to believe if I already know it." Desmond once again rolled his eyes, though I could see an amused edge in his eyes.

"Cocky brat."

The bastard sword in my hand cut through the air once again, and I felt how the grip fit in my hand well enough. I felt the balance of the weapon once again and nodded. It had been a good choice, especially with my brute-force-orientated fighting style that was designed to overwhelm enemies. I had even managed to disarm Desmond once, a few weeks back, though perhaps that was because my physical strength didn't even belong to my already large build.

I let the sword sink and then leaned it against a nearby tree stump. I turned around to Ser Desmond, who then handed over my equipment. Seen as I was already dressed in my gambeson I didn't have to go through the annoying tying process that came with donning the first layer of my protection.

I started with the protection of my feet and worked myself up to my leg armor which I strapped on my body with extra care. One badly tied strap and an entire piece could come off. I put on the chainmail, the chest plate, and then the neck protection, before I began to don the arm protection, making sure the small plates inside were all moving correctly. The last part was the helmet, which I put a bit faster than the other pieces of equipment, and tied its leather straps under my chin.

After I was done, I turned around and began stretching in the armor, making sure I hadn't made any mistakes while putting it on. One funny thing that surprised me about normal armor in general was the lightness and agility you had with it. Sure, if I were decked out in heavy plate I wouldn't be able to cartwheel around, but in lighter armor, I could maintain a good sprinting speed.

"Good, you at least look presentable. Now get in there, I already saw how a few squires were already walking to the entrance." I nodded and was already prepared to sprint away before I was stopped by another voice.

"Wait, you damned fool!" I turned around and narrowly managed to catch the shield that had been thrown to me by none other than Brynden, who sent a smile my way.

"At least let our colors shine in the squire's melee." I looked at the shield and saw the sigil of the Tullys, the proud silver trout that was shown on the red and blue background. I smiled and bowed slightly.

"Yes Ser, I won't disappoint you." Brynden just gave me a nod and walked off, most likely to join Lord Hoster in the section of the viewing stands that was reserved for the higher nobility. I gave Ser Desmond one last grateful nod and then quickly made my way to the smaller entrance of the tournament arena, where other squires had already lined up.

And it was a colorful mix, let me tell you.

I still could see squires that looked like they had barely started their training and were most likely barely fourteen or fifteen years old. Their armor was still new and seemed almost unfamiliar to them and most of them carried themselves with way too much confidence. On the flip side there also were the older squires, some of whom were already 18 years old and seemed to know their way in battle and their armors seemed to be barely weighing them down.

And then there was me, who could have fit into the former category, at least from a height and build standpoint.

All of the squires were standing in a long row and were slowly being checked by three Goldcloaks who stood at the gates. Every time someone would find out about a hidden or sharp weapon, the squire would immediately be disqualified. When it was finally my turn, I could already hear the cheering of the crowd inside.

"Name and House." The man in front of me, who was also holding a list in his hands, said.

"Donar of House Tully." The man looked at the list and then at me, before calling another man to his side to check something.

"Are you truly only twelve name-days old?" He asked after a few moments. I sighed and nodded.

"Yes, I am Ser. You can ask Lord Hoster or Lord Brynden if you desire to know if I just said the truth." The man looked at the list for a few seconds longer but then waved me through.

"Ah, not worth it. Also, I'm no Ser." I nodded and walked through the entrance and through a small corridor that directly led into the wooden arena. Just before I exited I took a deep breath, calming my nerves, and stepped into the arena.

The yells that appeared after my entrance weren't only directed at me, but they certainly felt that way. I got into the line behind the other squires and waited for the last ones to arrive. When they did I finally could see movement in the higher viewing stands. A man, dressed in a red and black coat that seemed to be worth more than an entire castle came forth and his white hair seemed to shine in the sun, as did his pearly teeth. And when he began to speak, I could barely believe that this man had the madness of the Targaryens' in his blood.

"Champions of the future, whether be that soon or a bit later, you are all welcomed to King's Landing, the city where the dragon has its nest." He opened his arms, and smiled down at us, giving me a proper look at his purple eyes.

"Now show us what the future may look like and demonstrate your skills." All of the squires, including me, nodded and kneeled, before we began to spread across the field, most of us careful enough to not let anyone stand behind us.

'Guess that answers the question if it's an everyone fighting everyone situation.' I thought while I backed up, the sword and shield in my hands held tightly, while I finally had the chance to observe some of my opponents. I glanced over the ones I didn't see as a threat, but I made sure to look at the ones that gave off a strange aura.

The first squire I saw was familiar, hauntingly so. It was none other than Narbert, who was now wearing the surcoat of House Grandison. Just from looking at him, I could tell that he had improved considerably. My eyes settled on a second squire, one of the few that seemed to be my equal in height, though also a bit older, judging from the experienced way he held that greatsword of his. His surcoat represented a large striped boar.

'House Crakehall then.'

My eyes fell on another squire, though not because of how strong he seemed. His face was recognizable, especially to me. Weasly and stoutish, that's what the squire a few dozen feet away from me could have been described as.

The last squire my eyes fell on, however, was nearly as tall as the one of house Crakehall but also had some Frey characteristics. His jaw was square and jut, and his eyes were a bit too far apart, but the muscles on his arms told me that he seemed to be a trained fighter at the very least.

Before I could observe more of my competition, however, I heard a horn echo through the air and all hell broke loose, surprising me even though I had tried to be prepared for it.

Some squires roared and immediately charged at the others, bowling them over and generally pushing them into the mud, while others stayed back and tried to avoid conflict for now. I on the other hand gladly plunged myself into the chaos that was the mass of squires, like the typical meathead I must have looked like on the outside. My armored boot crashed into the stomach of a smaller squire, throwing the poor boy to the ground where he stayed. My second hit scored another victim, hitting him on the side of his kettle helmet. I felt how the force of my blow was only softened by the helmet, but not completely migiated. The spear in the squire's hands dropped to the ground, and he followed suit.

I felt someone stab into my arm with a halfhearted thrust that I didn't even fall through my armor. I responded by unleashing three quick slices upon my attacker's legs, throwing him off balance. Before he could recover, the pommel of the bastard sword crashed into his side and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

I blocked the blunted blade of a sword and responded by bashing my shield into the other squire's face, sending him to the ground in a heap. He didn't get up anymore, most likely not prepared to take such a heavy blow. My next opponent was carrying a blunted axe and a shield with the sigil of a house I didn't know. The other squire was older than me, but that hardly mattered when my reach for outstripped him. I attacked immediately, using my shield to push the other boy away and disrupt his footing. He tried to stop the charge, but I outweighed him by at least 20 pounds, and that was without my heavier armor. He fell on his back, and when he saw the tip of my sword pointed at his neck he yielded, sighing in frustration as he did so.

Another squire tried his luck with a spear, managing to score a blow against my relatively unguarded neck. On the battlefield that would have killed me, but we weren't on a battlefield right now. I recovered much faster than he had seemingly thought and promptly shattered his weapon with a strong swing of my blunt sword. I massaged my aching neck as I stood up, silently cursing my faulty armor, and then looked around me. From the previous participants, only the best or the most cowardly had remained.

The next squire was the big one with the Frey characteristics. He was strong, I had to admit that much, but he only seemed to be a few years older than me and lacked the skill and speed to beat me. He and I clashed with a throw of quick swings, the weapon colliding. I even felt my arm shake slightly as I had to block a two-handed blow from him, but my sword found the gaps in his armor, which I exploited with gusto.

Soon enough I was once again involved in a duel, this time with the oldest, most battle-hardened squire I had met so far. He wielded a bastard sword just like me and also fought with a shield, seemingly trained to easily handle the weight of both weapons at the same time. His surcoat also wore the gold and red of the Lannisters, though I could see none of the golden hair they were so famous for. Still, the point that he was the oldest squire I had met in this tourney so far still stood. He also gave me a significantly harder time. His attacks were precise, fast, and strong, a dangerous combination. The timings of his blocks, counterattacks, and dodges were also good, much better than those that my previous opponents possessed. But the worst thing was that he was wearing proper armor, a full suit of it. Not even the helmet was missing.

I avoided another one of his strikes and pushed him backward, wanting to create some distance between us and change my grip on the bastard sword. But he had already seen it coming, and promptly closed the distance once again, cracking the pommel of his sword against my chin.

And I had to admit, I got pissed after that.

I bashed the shield directly in front of his helmet and followed it up by kicking his legs out under him, sending him to the ground. He stood up sooner than I could have launched another attack, but at least seemed to be slightly dizzy. My sword immediately bit into his armored side, specifically at a point where only the gambeson and chainmail were protecting him. It didn't have the same result as a mace hitting him in the side, but it did show effect. He flinched out of instinct and allowed me to bash the shield in my hand once again at his helmet. The squire went down and didn't get up, though I could still hear him breathing.

After that, I noticed how most of the other participants avoided me, only some of them were brave enough to face me head-on. I still went after them to ensure that they would be eliminated right away and wouldn't be a problem. The last squire I saw was the Frey, and I had to admit that he wasn't a bad fighter.

He blocked, dodged, and avoided some of my swings, though he wasn't so lucky with my thrusts, one of which caught him in the stomach and let him go to the ground. He stood up again, his sword raised once again, and I responded slowly coming closer, the sword in my hand already ready to strike or respond to his attacks. He too tried to thrust at me, but I blocked it with my shield, while my blade bit into his armored shoulder, though it seemed as if the shock was more than enough to take him out, because, in the next moment, he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

When I turned away from the unconscious Frey and observed the "battlefield" we were on, I noticed how Narbert was lying on the ground, his sword lying a few feet away from him. My eyes narrowed and when I raised them again, they met those of one of the last remaining squires in the ring. The one with the sigil of Crakehall on his chest.

"You know, I wanted to have a rematch with him," I said, pointing the tip of my sword at the still kneeling form of Narbert. The Crakehall snorted, his huge stature making it seem as if he was already preparing himself to attack.

"Don't think that I'll go easy on you just because you're the squire of a higher house." I raised an eyebrow behind my helmet and slowly began to circle my opponent, while I observed him. He carried a greatsword, which meant his reach was greater than mine, but he also didn't possess a shield. He must have had a good amount of skill too if he managed to disarm Narbert and not have any visible injuries.

"Never asked you to," I said, and immediately was the first one to attack. The large boy had been prepared for that, however, and immediately swung his greatsword at me to keep me at bay, laughing as he did so.

"That's the spirit!"

*****

-A few minutes earlier-

-Jaime Lannister-

-Six years-

He was practically shaking with excitement as he stared at the chaos that was happening beneath him. Mother had told him that the squire's melee would pale in comparison to the one held for the adults. But he had to wonder if the fighting beneath him was already so exciting, how much excitement would the normal fights bring him? He looked to his right and saw how Cersei sat in her little chair, her arms crossed and a bored look on her face. If there was one thing they didn't agree on, it was their attitude towards battle. He loved it, while Cersei thought that it was only something for hairy men to boast about while they bedded a whore.

His thoughts were interrupted when a squire was bodily thrown to the ground, landing with a loud crash. His eyes were drawn away from the two boys who had just been dueling with a surprising amount of skill and landed on a crowd of squires that had gathered around a particularly large squire who proudly wore a shield with the Tully sigil. It should have been an unfair fight, especially in a melee that wasn't supposed to be fought in teams.

But the Tully squire didn't seem to care, a surprisingly booming voice echoing from his helmet as he easily broke through the defense some squires had put up. The large squire used his body nearly perfectly, using it to his advantage. Jaime saw how he used the bastard sword in his hand with surprising grace and strength too.

Then the large squire met Rolph, a squire that had shortly served under his father. Rolph was nearly a knight and in his last year of squirehood, though his skill was perhaps even superior to the one of a normal knight. He scored hits on the larger squire, even hitting him multiple times. Strangely enough, the Tully squire refused to stay down and soon got the revenge for the blows Rolph had landed, scoring a mean-looking shield-bash on Rolph's armored face that was immediately followed up with a combination of quick and heavy attacks. Rolph still tried to defend against the blows, but his balance had been damaged too far at that point. Another shield bash put the Lannister squire to the ground and he didn't stand up anymore.

He heard the chair next to his, the one his father was sitting on, creak slightly as the Hand of the King leaned forward. The old lion's eyes had narrowed slightly, but Jaime had seen his father angry before, and he knew that the emotion he saw in his father's eyes wasn't anger.

It was interest that gleamed in his eyes.

"How old is that squire, Lord Tully?" He asked the Lord who was sitting on one of the larger chairs reserved for the Lord Paramounts. Hoster, the head of House Tully, seemed to be unsure how to reply, but his brother Brynden Tully did the deed for him.

"He is twelve name-days old." Lord Mace Tyrell, who had just taken a large gulp from a glass of wine, spit out the expansive beverage, his loud voice echoing through the entire upper echelon of the seating rows.

"TWELVE?!" A few heads turned around to look at the Rose Lord and his mother, Olenna Tyrell, just messaged her forehead, most likely used to her son's antics already. Though none of the other lords reacted as impulsively as Lord Mace had done, it was clear that the message had shocked them. Jaime could have a sword that even his father's eyes seemed to have widened for a fraction of a minute, though he could have been wrong as well.

"Twelve name-days old? Does that boy carry the giant's blood of the North in his veins?"

"Or perhaps he is of the Durrandon line? Ronard Storm supposedly had 22 wives after all."

Jaime didn't pay any attention to the chatter of the nobles but instead opted to watch the next fight that was about to take place.

The Tully squire and a squire from Crakehall, Tybolt he believed was his name, met on the muddy ground, and Jaime could hear the loud, happy laughter of the Crakehall scion.

The Tully had remained silent during their fast clash, backing away as Tybolt's greatsword only narrowly failed to hit his chest. The Tully squire was quick, quicker than a boy his size had any right to be. Tybolt seemed to notice that his sword-strikes were all being evaded and instead changed his strategy. He threw the greatsword to the ground, a move that would have been too risky in a normal fight, and picked up a smaller, more compact sword.

Tybolt charged forward, and the still unnamed Tully squire responded by bracing himself and catching the blow with his blade. Soon enough the two large squires were in a battle of pure strength, each one of them trying to push the other one away. But in the end, the Tully squire won, throwing the Crakehall squire back as if he wasn't wearing 50 pounds of armor. Tybolt crashed into the ground with a pained grunt, and Jaime could have sworn that he heard how the head of the Crakehall squire landed on the ground.

However, if there was something that could be said about the Crakehall lineage, then it was the fact that they were tough and hardy. Tybolt stood up again, and Jaime could see that Tybolt's father, the current Lord of Crakehall, smiled and nodded at his son's actions.

But his eyes turned back to the arena beneath the viewing stands, he could see that Tybolt had indeed sustained damage from the fall, and not just a blow to the head. The tall squire was limping, dragging one of his legs slightly after him, but he still didn't seem to want to give up, the sword still held in his hand. The unknown Tully squire, who still had his guard raised just a few moments ago, let the sword sink and slowly got closer and stopped a few feet before Tynolt, pointing at his injured leg, most likely telling the other squire to yield.

The Crakehall seemed eager to continue, but he must have noticed his loss and let his sword drop.

And then the cheers started. The people, the wealthier smallfolk in particular, were yelling and cheering at the two squires that still stood in the middle of the field. But both of them didn't even seem to notice it. Jaime watched as the Tully squire placed Tytos's arm over his shoulder and helped the noble son walk out of the arena, though both of the squires received plenty of cheers on the way to the exit.

"Hm, seems like we will see the identity of your squire when the rewards are given, am I right, Lord Hoster?" Jaime heard King Aerys's amused voice, though he could see how Hoster looked like he had swallowed something sour.

"Of course, your Grace." The Lord Paramount said, before once again concentrating on the arena where Goldcloaks and sometimes guards of the specific houses now were carrying away the squires to clear the field for the jousting that would soon begin.

Though still, he hoped he would have the chance to one-day cross swords with the large Tully squire.

*****

"You hit like a bear," I remarked as I moved my aching neck. I really shouldn't have thrown all caution against the wind and just started into the masses.

"Hm, I'd prefer that I hit like a boar." The older squire said, careful to not put more weight on his hurt foot.

"Is it bad?" At my worried answer, the other squire just chuckled and shook his head.

"Nay, just a bad way to fall with a huge body like mine. You're devilishly fast too, can't believe you were wearing armor." I chuckled and shook my head.

"You also have a steady hand. It's been quite some while since I met someone who could match me in brute strength." That was true. Even if the squire next to me was older, he still had more strength than any normal man I had fought against yet, perhaps even more than Brynden. Of course, strength wasn't overall combat ability, otherwise, I would have already beaten my biological father.

"Well, "None so Fierce" my dear friend, none so fierce." He said, most likely recounting his house's words.

"True, I have to admit that I was a bit shocked after I saw how you stood up after the last blow, it was supposed to take you out," I admitted, while we slowly came closer to the exit of the corridor. The squire next to me laughed.

"Well, I do have quite an endurance." Both of us reached the exit of the corridor and I helped the older squire sit down on a nearby tree stump, where he took off his helmet, exposing a strong jaw and a face where beard stubble was already beginning to grow. The older squire offered me his hand, smiling as he did so.

"Tybolt Crakehall, a pleasure to be meeting you." I looked at the offered hand and then took off my helmet as well, and grasped his hand.

"Donar Storm, or Branch, either does suffice." Tybolt looked at me for a short moment and then his eyes widened.

"Oh, you are a Tully that was born in the Stormlands?" I nodded, and strangely enough, his facial expression didn't seem to change much.

"Well, you being a bastard doesn't change that you beat me fairly and honorably. Though I do wonder what your parents fed you for you, a Tully, to grow so big." I shrugged and then motioned him to follow me.

"I guess I was born different. I've always been a tall guy, even when I was younger."

'Well, younger than even now.' I mentally added and then pulled out a wineskin out of my tent. Tytos smiled widely and rubbed his fingers.

"Oh ho my friend, you know how to make a man happy." I gave him the wineskin and he drank greedily, letting out a deep sigh as he had finished.

"That hit the spot, thank you, my friend." I smiled at him and too took a long drag from the wine.

"No problem, though I do question myself if I'm your friend already, Tybolt." The other squire smiled and slapped me on the back.

"We fought against each other, had a great time doing it and you even made me lose with honor, I'd say that would make you a great friend even." He chuckled and once again took a drag from the wineskin. I nodded at his words and then stood up with a groan.

"Well, it's decided then, I shall meet you when the jousts happen, though I have to admit that I am not allowed into the higher echelons of the viewing stands, seen as I'm a bastard." Tybolt made a dismissive handwave and chuckled.

"That is of no matter, I shall meet you regardless. I take it that you will wait at the viewing stands for the Tully soldiers?" I nodded and Tybolt smiled.

"Good, then we shall see each other in two hours there!" He stood up, but slightly cringed as his foot touched the earth."

"You need help?"

"Why yes, that would be quite chivalrous of you." The older squire said, wincing slightly as he did.