Early Lead

[Edric's POV, first.]

A dragonbone bow was for an archer what valyrian steel was for a swordsman. While not nearly as rare and prestigious as the latter, it wasn't too far off. I imagined I'd have one eventually... either buying it for a steep price, taking it off an enemy or some other (nefarious) means.

But... falling into my lap like this? It was a welcome surprise, to be sure.

"You look very pleased, Your Grace," Rhaerra remarked. "I am most glad."

"Why would I not be?" I smiled. "You are most generous to come all this way and gift me such a beauty."

"The amusing thing is that it was a gift intended for you all along. The one-thousand-paces challenge was merely to see your performance in person. A spectacle for the masses - and myself." Rhaerra tilted her head slightly, shrugging. "I must say... you did impress."

"You truly are Dorian's daughter to play a game like that." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Might I inquire as to what his other gifts are?"

"Aren't you a little greedy?"

"Only curious." I shrugged. "Dorian's loyalty is gift enough for me, after all."

"His next gifts will be more significant than a bow, I am sure... but you will have to wait for quite some time." 

"Is that why you're here - to act on his behalf while he is away?" I looked at her mask.

"Precisely." She nodded. "I'll have to be your wet nurse for a little while, Your Grace."

"Heh." I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'm afraid I have no need for one."

"I would be inclined to agree... but my father insisted."

"Figuratively, I assume."

"No... literally." She replied with a clear tone of sarcasm, turning away. "Our first session starts tonight."

She definitely was a bit on the sassy end.

"Before you leave, I want to ask why you always wear some form of covering for your head?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Are you hiding something? It seems a little unnecessary to me."

"It sounds like you wish to see what's behind this mask, Your Grace."

"Not particularly."

"Now that's a lie." She chuckled, glancing back at me. "Say... why don't we have a little competition?"

"Hm?"

"There are seven events in this 'Great Tournament', and I intend to win every single one. If you and your men manage to win more than mine, then I will give this mask to you. Regarding this first event... I'll give it to you."

"Technically, you did win it." I shook my head. "Even if I took the purse."

"You're that confident in your men?" She tilted her head.

"Of course. What kind of question is that?"

"Very well... I will take the first victory." She nodded. "On the other end, if my men and I win more than your group, I'll have that armour we bet on before."

"You are quite obsessed with my old armour." I laughed. "What am I to make of that? You want me along with it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Your Grace. I only like to collect artefacts with historical significance." She shook her head. "Though... I wouldn't mind you as a sellsword in my service."

"I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to afford me." I stroked my chin. "If by some chance I were one... the starting salary would have to be along the lines of one hundred thousand gold dragons per year."

"Do you know how many more men that kind of gold would buy?" She chuckled.

"And yet... none of them would be me." 

"... I am inclined to agree, given what I've witnessed." She stroked her chin. "When could I buy you?"

No way she's serious.

"You'd have to wait for the Summer Sale. Even then, there's no guarantee Ser Edric Storm would be available. He's quite the desirable commodity, you see."

"I suppose that would give me time to save," she remarked, making me think that she was serious. "Regardless, are you up for my bet? It's perfectly fine if you are afraid that your men are not up to the task-"

"Sure." I shrugged. "I suppose I shouldn't mind a free mask since my Kingsguard will wipe the floor with your nameless sellswords."

"They will not be nameless to you when they dirty the shiny white capes of your Kingsguard."

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm..." She replied with an air of confidence. 

"... I don't mean to interrupt, Your Grace." The event organiser held his hands together. "But..."

"We were done anyways." Rhaerra walked away. "I won't halt the next event further."

"Yes." I nodded. "Proceed with the throwing contest."

I wonder if she has her father's throwing chops... if so, that might be another event under her belt and an early 2-0 lead. 

"Look at you." 

A strangely familiar Summer Islander dressed in lavish and exotic clothes approached me. His colourful feather cape, feathered hat and beautiful goldenheart longbow clicked face to name quite quickly. It was none other than the man who surrendered his goldenheart bow to me through our bet...

He smiled with confidence.

"Armed with a dragonbone bone and ten times the archer you were the last time we met. And... of course, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms!" He spread his arms wide open. "What a turn of fate, eh? Do you even remember this humble Prince?"

"Of course, you're the Prince of the Isle of Gold - Dabhal Cho. The previous owner of my treasured goldenheart bow."

"That bow is no doubt even more famous than I." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Shame it broke on this day... it just wasn't quite made for the use of titans."

"It served me well and accomplished a feat no other bow could have."

"Indeed... it shall be remembered for a long, long, time. But it is not the bow that pulled the string and fired an arrow so far. That feat is yours alone." Dabhal Cho shrugged. "Any good bow could have sufficed."

"Regardless, it's good to see you again. I hope you enjoy your time in King's Landing."

I smiled, nodding and stepping ahead.

"There... is one matter I wish to discuss with you, if you would entertain me."

I paused, glancing back.

"And what would that be?"

"You are no stranger to conquest, I am told. What I ask is for your support... if you are not too busy. There are a great many rivals who seek my lands and will stop at nothing to see me defeated. You do know how we settle our conflicts, yes?"

"Ritualised warfare between warriors using spears and slings," I replied, recalling information from one of the many books I'd read. "They're like your own tourney melees where few die. The losers are sent away in exile."

"Jalabhar Xho would know best what that kind of defeat tastes like." Dabhal Cho chuckled. "Alas, I do not.. and have expanded my power and lands greatly over time, besting one prince after the other. This, however, has only made my rivals more resentful in their exile. I fear a real war is on the horizon - an invasion from my bitter, exiled, rivals who will undoubtedly be aided by my envious neighbours."

"You're not very popular, by the sound of things," I remarked with a chuckle.

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "Losing men are envious of the victors, those who triumph over them. You would know that most of all, Your Grace. It was my idea to gain some funding from this contest... but, alas, the competition was remarkably strong, and I underachieved."

"What am I to gain from supporting you?" I questioned bluntly.

"The Summer Isles, in their entirety." He spread his arms wide open in grand fashion. "I want to unite my people, as they were united by a scarce few... and held for a terribly short time by most of them. I want this endless war to end, at least so long as I live. We do not need a hundred princes, one ruler for each island, several for the larger ones... no. Not anymore."

"There should only be one." He closed his hand into a fist and held it in front of his fist as he spoke with charisma. "One Prince. One King. One People."

The difference between Jalabhar Xho and Dabhal Cho was night and day. One was a lavishly dressed beggar who had nothing but unconvincing words to offer, while the other came from a position of experience and power. He had a grand ambition, no less... one that paralleled my own.

That is... if he was telling the truth about his accomplishments and not talking out of his ass. I'll need to fact-check with Varys later.

"A compelling offer," I admitted, nodding. "I shall discuss the finer details with you at a more fitting time."

"As you wish." He lowered his head in a bow and walked away.

...

"No wonder why you didn't attend this archery contest," Arya remarked as I sat down and gave away my bow to a squire. "It would've been unfair."

"I had hoped that Ser Balon would emerge victorious, but that woman turned out to be more formidable than I expected..."

"You didn't want to give her any gold, did you? That's why you challenged her."

"Mhm." I chuckled, watching the preparation for the next competition. "I did not expect her to flip it on my head with an even greater challenge... but it worked out in the end."

"You somehow managed to make the event about you... as usual." She smiled slightly. "What did you two talk about?"

"A little bet. Nothing major."

I am not losing my armour... I'm too much of a sentimental person.

~

[Arya's POV]

Edric looked quite bored despite trying to look interested, his head resting on his hand. Arya knew full well that he would much rather be down there on the tournament grounds and competing... than sitting and watching. Even so, as the throwing contest reached the finals, he sat up.

Arya's eyes focused on the lady she had learned about from Edric: Rhaerra Aeraellis. The more she learned, the more she wanted to know, and the more she knew... well, the more she admired the figure.

When it came to throwing daggers and knives, she was just as good as she was with the bow. No one had even come close. However, for the javelins, she didn't participate and left it up to her men, who competed against the Kingsguard.

Funnily enough, they wore silver-white armour, which was not all that different from the Kingsguard. However, instead of white capes, they wore blue with a silver dragon emblazoned on it. They all looked valyrian, with silver or platinum-blonde hair and deep blue or purple eyes.

The tallest of the bunch, a giant that looked even taller than Edric, grabbed his javelin and tossed it further than anyone else did like a human catapult... further than even the Hound. No one else could throw it further - making him the winner.

Edric simply smiled as the champion's purse went to the giant. He was not only tall but muscular. His physique made him look like a Valyrian Edric, though Arya had no doubt who was stronger between the two.

"Congratulations... Baegel." He looked like he wanted to laugh saying his name. "That was an impressive throw. Most impressive."

"Big Baegel is the best, the strongest, the smartest, and the most handsome man in the world!" Big Baegal announced with pride. By his manner of speech, it didn't seem he was the brightest man around. "Big Baegel win gold for Goddess Rhaerra, Big Baegel eat very good tonight."

"Indeed, Big Baegel did win." Edric firmly nodded, seemingly playing along. "Goddess Rhaerra, very happy."

"Baby King, no speak for Goddess Rhaerra. Only Goddess Rhaerra can say Goddess Rhaerra is happy."

"... Of course." Edric chuckled. "How could I be so ignorant? Go on, to your Goddess."

"Big Baegel will crush little shiny Kingsguard in melee. Remember Big Baegel words."

"Hmph." Edric chuckled as he walked away... before breaking out into laughter. "How ridiculous... hahahaha."

"What's so funny?" Arya questioned with a raised eyebrow. She hadn't seen Edric laugh like that... ever. Not when he was sober, at least. 

"Do you really have to ask that? The bumbling brute is as much of a jester as a thrower, from his name to how he speaks. I can't even take his threat personally..." Edric laughed, shaking his head. "Rhaerra seems to have a more colourful group than I first thought. Even so, the Hound would eat that fool alive in single combat."

"It might be closer than you think," Arya observed. He had thrown a decent bit further than the Hound, showing more raw strength.

With a clean sweep of the throwing event, Rhaerra's group seemed to be looking for total domination. When it came to running with or without armour, one of Rhaerra's men earned first place in both. Daman... who looked like he could never get tired.

As for riding... Ser Loras looked like he was about to win until Rhaerra overtook him, followed by another one of her men - a man called Valaegor Raelaereonor. His name was one that Arya nor Edric could say without giving up midway. With Ser Loras finishing third in the final competition of the racing event... and another good chunk of gold falling into Rhaerra's lap, Edric finally stood up.

Whatever the bet was... he was losing it.

"So that's how it is... fine." Edric took a deep breath. "Dallin, Ragnor, Dickon... bring me my new armour."

"I'll show those lousy Kingsguard what winning looks like."

Arya found herself feeling unreasonably excited... grinning as he took to the field.

She knew no one was taking any gold from him in the melee.