Sword Duel

The Training Ground at Winterfell wasn't very large. In the blink of an eye, Robb and the Wolf Guard had nearly charged right up to the Hound.

"Stop the charge!"

Robb suddenly shouted and raised his left hand high, clenching his fist. At the same time, he brought his own charge to an abrupt halt.

The Wolf Guard obeyed his command and stopped together. Inertia carried them several steps forward before they managed to steady themselves, but they still kept their formation intact.

The Wolf Guard's maneuver made the Hound's brow twitch beneath his helmet. A notorious man who had killed at twelve, he had taken part in brutal wars himself.

Whenever troops charged into battle, their ranks began in a straight line, inevitably became a curving wave as they advanced, and then dissolved into a melee where friend and foe were hard to distinguish.

No army in Westeros had ever managed to keep an orderly formation from the start of a charge to its end.

The formation didn't look particularly useful, but anyone capable of doing what others couldn't still earned his respect.

"Everyone, dismissed!"

Robb gave the order to dismiss the men and slid the blunt training sword in his right hand back into its scabbard. Smiling at Joffrey among the guards, he said,

"Your Highness, our sissy training is over. What did you think?"

Joffrey, whom Robb had just mocked, didn't answer. His face flushed from pale to red, veins bulging on his forehead.

"Haha, look at him! He looks like he's wet himself!"

"He called us sissies? He should take a look in the mirror."

"Shh, keep your voice down. The sissy might hear you!"

As the saying went, "A vassal's vassal is not my vassal." The sons of the North's vassals didn't show the prince the slightest respect. As they dispersed, they shouted back at Joffrey's earlier taunts in twos and threes.

"Get out of my way!"

Joffrey couldn't stand being treated that way. He kicked aside the guard next to him and shoved his way out from behind the Hound.

He hurriedly drew the sword at his waist and pointed it at Robb, who had already turned to leave. He shouted,

"I, Joffrey Baratheon, eldest son of Robert Baratheon, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, head of House Baratheon, rulers of Storm's End,

hereby challenge Robb Stark, eldest son of House Stark, rulers of the North, to a duel!"

At Joffrey's challenge, everyone froze as if someone had hit pause. The entire Training Ground fell silent.

Robb's smile faded. He turned around and asked, "You're challenging me to a duel? Are you serious?"

"Of course he's joking!"

Cersei walked in through the Training Ground's gate with Jaime and their retinue of guards. Smiling, she called out,

"If you children want to practice your swordsmanship, then practice. Don't make a spectacle of it with a duel. Duels are sacred!"

With a casual remark, she turned the duel into a simple practice match. Cersei walked around to face Joffrey, her back to Robb, and straightened his clothes, rumpled with excitement.

"Yesterday, I heard you say you wanted to ask Robb for swordsmanship lessons. Why not do that now?

What do you think, my son?"

At the sight of Cersei's icy expression, Joffrey swallowed his anger and obediently nodded. "All right, Mother."

Cersei turned back to Robb, her expression once more as warm as spring sunshine. Smiling, she said,

"Young Wolf Lord, don't beat my son up too badly, will you?

Well, I won't interrupt your fun."

With that, she left with Jaime and the others, heading toward the Main Keep.

There was no way Cersei could leave her son unattended. As soon as she reached the edge of the Training Ground, she and Jaime turned around to watch how things would unfold.

After Cersei had put it that way, Robb had no choice but to spar with Joffrey.

Truthfully, he had been tempted to use the duel as an excuse to "accidentally" get rid of Emperor Joffrey.

But some people were born with a death wish!

After Cersei's interruption, Joffrey's mood gradually returned to normal.

He remembered that when he'd crossed swords with knights in King's Landing, no one had ever lasted a single exchange against him.

So he started boasting, insisting they use real swords instead of blunt training blades.

"I'll stop them!"

At the edge of the Training Ground, Jaime furrowed his brow and was about to step in and put an end to the farce. Cersei caught him by the elbow.

"No! Let them spar with real swords."

Cersei's emerald eyes wandered without settling on anything in particular. A rosy smile lifted her lips as she stopped him.

"Have you gone mad? You know Joffrey's opponents always go easy on him when they cross swords. Our son doesn't know how to use a sword. How could he possibly beat that wolf pup?

Real swords! What if that wolf pup 'accidentally' hurts him?"

At Cersei's words, Jaime glanced quickly around to make sure none of the nearby guards could hear. Then he leaned close and whispered hurriedly,

"Yes. If only Joffrey had your talent for swordsmanship, but unfortunately..."

As he looked at Jaime's handsome, anxious face, Cersei instinctively wanted to reach out and touch him. Remembering where they were, she stopped herself and continued,

"Because he has no swordsmanship at all, I'm sure the wolf pup can't hurt him.

Actually, if he deliberately 'accidentally' hurt Joffrey, I'd be even happier.

Look over there..."

After hearing Cersei, Jaime followed her gaze upward.

On the wooden walkway on the Main Keep's second floor, Robert and Eddard were making their rounds with a group of attendants and servants.

They had clearly already noticed what was happening in the Training Ground and were watching from above with interest.

"Once, the Stag and the Wolf became friends who could entrust each other with their lives in the fight to slay the dragon.

But the next generation won't become friends. They might even become enemies over this. Isn't that exactly what we want?"

Cersei's words successfully persuaded Jaime.

He had no intention of standing at the edge of the Training Ground to watch from a distance, though. Resting his right hand lightly on his sword hilt, he tapped a steady beat with his index finger as he slowly approached Robb and Joffrey.

In the middle of the Training Ground, the Wolf Guard and Joffrey's guards formed a ring, with Robb and Joffrey at its center.

Joffrey's sword, its hilt shaped like a golden lion's head, was already drawn. Robb still held a training sword.

He insisted on using a blunt sword because he was genuinely afraid he might cut Joffrey down by accident.

Seeing that Robb was wide open and holding a blunt sword, Joffrey boldly seized the initiative and attacked.

He gripped his sword in both hands, holding it by his right hip, and charged at Robb. When he reached him, he thrust the sword forward with both hands in a fine straight thrust.

The thrust lacked power and speed, but the form was polished and precise. It was clear he had trained.

Joffrey wanted to draw blood, so he put all his strength into that one strike.

Robb shifted a step to his right and turned sideways, narrowly avoiding Joffrey's fine straight thrust.

At the same time, he swiftly brought his sword down in a fierce cut, striking Joffrey's Golden Lion Longsword with perfect accuracy.

Well, before he swung, the scene of the Iaido Slash from the Blue Star movie Embroidered Spring Knife had flashed through Robb's mind.

Clang!!!

Metal rang against metal. Robb's blunt sword failed to break Joffrey's Golden Lion Longsword.

But the sword was knocked right out of Joffrey's hand, and the force of the downward strike sent him crashing face-first into the muddy ground.

"Pfft! The prince ate dirt!"

"Haha, 'King's Landing Swordmaster'! I thought he'd be impressive. What a ridiculous nickname."

"Shh, keep your voice down. The swordmaster might hear you!"

Laughter first broke out among the watching Wolf Guard, followed by their supposedly quiet taunts.

Joffrey got to his feet, his face caked in mud and blazing red. He didn't even bother to pick up his Golden Lion Longsword. Glaring at Robb with bitter resentment, he turned and ran out of the Training Ground.

The Hound picked up his sword and silently followed after him.