Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Training Camp

…

Third POV

10 days before the tourney

The training ground bustled with activity as knights and squires jogged around the yard. Leading the group was Tygett Lannister, his stern gaze ensuring no one slacked off. But while most were catching their breath after the long run, 

Galahad—Richard—was still at it, sprinting past them again and again.

He had been running even before them, though no one could say exactly how long he had started before the others. 

His stamina seemed boundless, far beyond anything expected of a boy his age. Sweat slicked his golden hair and dripped from his brow, yet his pace never faltered.

When Tygett finally called for a break, the squires collapsed onto the ground, clutching their knees and gasping for breath. The knights stood tall as they breathed heavily.

"Rest for five minutes," Tygett commanded. 

"Then we start sparring. After that, jousting practice will start." He added.

Meanwhile, the knights and squires rested and exchanged jokes with each other, their spirits lifted by the brief reprieve. 

Laughter echoed across the training ground as they teased one another about their performances during the run and their upcoming spars.

Tygett joined Gerion and Oberyn Martell on the sidelines. "How long do you think he's been running?" Oberyn asked, nodding toward Richard, who was still circling the yard at a brisk pace. "He's got the stamina of a Dothraki stallion."

Gerion squinted, then chuckled. "Two hours, maybe more. Look at him—drenched like he's been in a storm."

Tygett leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. "And he hasn't even been Kevan's squire for a year. How does he do it?"

Their eyes followed Galahad as he finally slowed to a stop, pulling off his soaked tunic. His body was lean and muscular, far more developed than one would expect for his age, with not a scar in sight. 

He twisted the tunic, and sweat poured from it in streams, pooling on the ground.

Oberyn let out a low whistle. "Quite a sight, isn't it?"

Gerion grinned. "With a body like that, he'd drive the women in the brothel wild. Shame he never joins us."

"Probably for the best," Oberyn quipped. "He'd steal all the whores."

Gerion began laughing at the joke.

Tygett rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "Enough of that. Time for sparring." He signaled to the men to gather their weapons and armor, the training about to begin in earnest.

The sun hung high in the sky as Tygett, Gerion, Oberyn, and the many knights and squires donned their armor and grabbed their weapons of choice. 

Excitement filled the air as they emerged from the barracks, energized and eager for the sparring sessions ahead.

Meanwhile, Galahad stood apart from the crowd, stripped down to his breeches. His tunic, now rolled up and handed to a servant to dry, left his lean, muscular form exposed to the afternoon sun.

He was already deep in his own training, focusing on his footwork as he shadow-fought against an invisible foe. 

His movements were sharp and precise, unorthodox compared to the traditional training methods of the other knights. 

But no one dared to question his methods—after all, the fifteen-nameday lad had bested all the best seasoned fighters here.

The clang of blunted metal weapons filled the training yard as knights paired up to duel. 

The melody of steel against steel echoed, punctuated by grunts of exertion and the occasional barked instruction from a senior knight. Squires watched closely, absorbing the techniques their masters demonstrated.

In the center of the yard, a particularly fierce bout was unfolding. 

Tygett, Gerion, and Oberyn had decided to face off in a free-for-all sparring match. Tygett wielded his massive greatsword with the power and precision that came from years of practice. 

Gerion moved with agility, his longsword slicing through the air with grace. 

Oberyn, ever the agile and cunning fighter, spun and danced around them with his spear, striking swiftly and retreating before they could retaliate.

The three of them sparring at full force was a sight to behold. Their weapons clashed with deafening force, each strike sending ripples of tension through the onlookers. 

Tygett's raw strength, Gerion's speed, and Oberyn's finesse created a whirlwind of combat that had the knights and squires wide-eyed in awe. It was not often that such skilled fighters went all out in practice.

As they fought, Galahad, still training on his own, paused for a moment to watch. His sharp green eyes followed their movements.

Galahad after a while of observing asked for a new tunic, after putting it on he went to the barracks. Donned his armor and took two swords.

He walked to the three.

"May I join in?" Galahad asked with a smirk, his confidence shining through as he approached the trio.

The three stopped, panting from their bout, sweat dripping from their brows. Oberyn wiped his forehead, grinning.

"Woah, woah, it's a little unfair, don't you think? Can't you see we're tired?" Oberyn teased, his usual playful tone masking the respect he held for the younger fighter. It was true; they were all a little out of breath from their sparring.

Gerion laughed, nodding in agreement. "In the meantime, you should spar with the other knights. Give us old men a break."

Galahad chuckled, stepping back. "Alright, but when I come back, there better not be any excuses."

Moments later, Galahad had gathered five knights to spar against him. Though they weren't at the level of Gerion, Oberyn, or Tygett, their numbers alone should have made the fight difficult. The gathered crowd began to murmur, anticipating a spectacle.

"How much you want to bet he takes them all down under ten minutes?" Oberyn asked with a mischievous grin, already predicting the outcome.

"Fifty gold says he does it under ten minutes," Gerion said confidently, his eyes on Galahad as the young squire squared up against the Lannister knights.

"I'll bet fifty gold it takes him longer," Tygett countered, doubt still lingering in his mind despite what he had seen of Galahad's skills.

Oberyn clapped Tygett on the back, clearly amused. "You're on."

The spar began, and the five knights rushed Galahad at once, thinking they could overwhelm him with sheer numbers. But Galahad was calm, his dual swords moving with the precision of a master as he dodged, weaved, and parried their strikes. 

His footwork was impeccable, allowing him to slip out of danger before any of the knights could land a solid hit. He countered with swift, calculated strikes, not aiming to injure but to disarm and incapacitate.

"Gods, every time I see it, I'm surprised he's not a knight already," Oberyn said, shaking his head in admiration.

Gerion nodded, watching Galahad with an appraising eye. "He has the potential to be the greatest. Greater than Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Barristan, or even Ser Duncan the Tall."

Tygett, on the other hand, was beginning to regret his wager. His eyes followed Galahad's movements, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his 100 gold was lost.

The turning point came when one of the knights overreached, leaving himself exposed. It was a critical mistake. Galahad saw the opening instantly, disarming him before the knight even realized his error. 

From that moment, the fight quickly spiraled out of control for the others. With one knight down, the remaining four soon followed, their defenses crumbling under Galahad's relentless precision.

One by one, Galahad disarmed each knight, leaving them standing weaponless and breathless. The spar was over in just under ten minutes.

Oberyn chuckled, patting Tygett on the shoulder. "I'll take my fifty gold now, thank you."

Gerion smirked, holding out his hand. "And mine as well."

"Alright, alright, meet me later after," Tygett grumbled. He didn't have the coin on him at the moment, but the others were happy to wait.

After some laughter and lighthearted banter, they approached Galahad, who had just stabbed his sword into the ground, removing his helmet. His hair, matted with sweat, clung to his forehead.

"Well, well, that was quite a show," Gerion said, his voice full of admiration.

"You ready to spar us now?" Oberyn asked with a mischievous grin, eager to face Galahad despite the squire's recent battle against five knights. He didn't care if Galahad was tired; he just wanted a shot at him.

Tygett, standing nearby, greeted them with a grunt, his mood still sour from losing the bet.

"Haha, what's with the unhappy face?" Galahad teased, his sharp eyes catching Tygett's expression.

"He just lost a wager, that's all," Gerion said, draping an arm around Galahad's neck. "Say, Galahad, instead of embarrassing us in another spar like you usually do, why don't you try jousting instead?"

Galahad blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. "But… but I'm no knight," he stuttered. The idea of jousting had never crossed his mind, and to be offered such an opportunity surprised him.

"Who cares? You're better than most knights anyway," Oberyn added with a wink. "Besides, since we can't beat you in a spar, give us a chance to knock you off a horse."

Gerion looked to his brother with a grin. "What do you say, Tygett? Is it alright?"

Tygett, still brooding over his lost wager, couldn't suppress a smile. "It's fine," he said in a gruff tone, though there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. He was eager for a chance to get back at Galahad.

"Let's see if you can keep up." Gerion joked.

Just like that, Galahad, who had only ever sparred with swords, would now be jousting. Unbeknownst to Gerion, Oberyn, and Tygett, Galahad was skilled on horseback too. 

They had assumed they'd have the advantage, expecting to unhorse the young squire with ease. Little did they know, it was they who would soon be unhorsed.