WiSh - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Joust

The majority of life's meaning, when everything is said and done, lies in earning the respect of others. There are many ways and forms to gain respect. However, regardless of the form, strength is the most crucial element.

Demonstrating strength can also take many forms. After becoming friends with the heart tree in the godswood and inadvertently becoming the successor to the Hall of Righteous Judgment, a name he had never even heard of, Will decided that his new life would earn the respect he deserved in the simplest way: by speaking the truth, even if it hurts; by doing what needs to be done, even if it hurts even more.

Let the virtues of humility, subtlety, silence, and patience, those beautiful and noble qualities, be damned.

The Hall of Righteous Judgment, an organization that seemed incredibly powerful and mysterious, turned out to be one for which Will was the sole successor. In other words, it was revealed that this organization had vanished for unknown reasons thousands of years ago, and now Will was the so-called Hall of Righteous Judgment, and the Hall of Righteous Judgment was Will.

The organization's creed was impressively assertive: Before the God of Time and Space, every life is eternal, and in the face of the world's evil and strife, only righteous judgment prevails.

Meaning the judgment of a sage. Strife and evil require righteous judgment. And it's not just any judgment—it's the only judgment.

However, the reality was that such a formidable creed—only righteous judgment—was clearly lacking in substance due to a lack of strength.

The organization had only one person: Will; and only one weapon: Night.

One person, one sword.

This realization left Will with a bizarre feeling: it was as if the God of Time and Space had played a cosmic joke out of boredom.

Moreover, after testing it, Will confirmed that it was indeed a joke: when he knelt before the stone statue of Brandon Stark, the Builder, and requested a miracle—for the God of Time and Space to restore the shattered iron sword to its original form with his unfathomable divine power—there was no response.

The pile of iron powder on the ground remained just that. There was no response from the will of the God of Time and Space. It was akin to the Red Woman, Melisandre, seeing absolutely nothing in the flames, feeling utterly helpless and disappointed.

Thus, in Will's heart, the grand goal of reviving the Hall of Righteous Judgment had long since gone to meet the White Walkers. Although before leaving Winterfell, the heart tree had guided him to dig up a wooden box from the ground, containing a not-so-complex map, and the heart tree had also told Will that the God of Time and Space was the deity it revered, and then the wooden box had miraculously turned to dust in Will's hands, it did not stir a sense of belonging to the Hall of Righteous Judgment in him.

Nevertheless, Will was intrigued by the practice of the heart tree's greensight and accepted its legacy without hesitation. After becoming the sole commander of the Hall of Righteous Judgment, the only difference was that the heart tree's attitude toward him had changed significantly. The tone of communication through soul power became one of soldiers facing a commander's reverence, or vassals facing a lord's humility.

These changes left Will slightly confused and uncomfortable, but he quickly began to enjoy the feeling. The heart tree in the godswood, which the Stark family of Winterfell regarded as a conduit for the Old Gods' will, actually seemed to bow to him, which felt both magical and refreshing.

This led Will to adopt a new outlook on life: He would earn the respect he deserved in the simplest way: by speaking the truth, even if it hurt, like calling a pockmarked face 'peppery'; by doing what needed to be done, even if it hurt even more, like kicking up a cloud of dirt into the face of the respected and skilled swordsman Ser Rodrik, and then pointing a sword at the back of his neck before he could open his eyes.

Now, Will was facing another moment where action was required. Desmond and two knights, along with a dozen kennel workers and dozens of hounds, were hunting in the wolf woods when they happened upon him. One of the knights wanted to compete with him in a lance charge.

Will agreed immediately.

He decided to unhorse Harris Moran, who was fully armored and wore a closed visor helmet with only a narrow slit to see out.

Although the practice lances would not cause impact injuries to a person, due to the lack of a tip and the special treatment of the lance's front end, which would crumble upon impact—this lack of harm was only because you were wearing armor and a helmet.

Now, Harris was equipped with all protective gear. If he were hit by Will, his armor would protect him; if he were unhorsed, his closed, neck-connected helmet would protect his head and neck when he fell.

Compared to Harris, Will seemed to be practically unarmed. But he wasn't worried about himself at all, while the rider next to him seemed a bit uneasy.

Jory and the other five riders knew that Harris was the best jouster in the North, having participated in many tournaments without equal. They all smiled, whispering vulgar jokes, waiting to see Harris knock Will off his horse and vent their frustration.

Harris had been invited by Jory and Desmond as an expert. Because of his pride and honor, Harris was reluctant to face a brother of the Night's Watch without armor and a helmet. But after hearing about Will's 'glorious' deeds, Harris, was successfully persuaded by his comrades.

"Brother Will, do you want to switch to Desmond's horse?" Harris asked.

He and the hunting party had set up camp here first and had left a night earlier to drive the game, with each person having two horses. They had already rested well here and felt great.

"No need," Will said.

"Your horse has traveled all day and is tired. Not switching horses will put you at a disadvantage. My horse is full of energy."

"No need. I'll unhorse you. I like seeing the disappointed looks on the faces of the North's warriors again." Will said.

Harris Moran was an excellent rider, and after Eddard Stark left for King's Landing with King Robert, he would become the new captain of the Winterfell guard and serve as Robb Stark's personal bodyguard. He was a true man of the North, a superb horseman, and a skilled warrior, with jousting being his specialty. No matter how you looked at it, Will was doomed to lose.

But Will remained calm, showing no sign of realization even as death approached.

At Desmond's command, Will and Harris turned their horses and galloped a hundred meters away before stopping. They each raised a triangular shield with their left arm and held their long lances high with their right, securing the lance under their right arm with their elbow.

With a shout from Desmond on horseback, Harris squeezed his legs, and his warhorse burst forth. Hooves flew, kicking up a mix of residual ice, snow, and grassy earth.

Jory, Desmond, and the others cheered loudly, applauding in unison.

Two hundred meters away, Will slowly rode out to meet the lance charge, and just by his demeanor, he had already lost the battle.

*****

A/N: I encourage you to take a peek at my other literary endeavors. I'm confident that you'll find them captivating. They're waiting to whisk you away on new adventures.

Also, a gentle reminder: "Don't forget to vote with your Power Stones. It will be a tremendous help in getting my works noticed by a wider audience. Your votes are like beacons in the night, guiding others to the stories we've built together."