Arya could hardly believe it. "Is Gryn really that fast?"
Syrio nodded gracefully. "No one is faster than him—at least, among the nine Free Cities I traveled through, I have never seen such a formidable warrior, curious girl."
A short distance away, the sharp-eared Gryn: "..."
Clack, clack, clack, clack. Rickon kept swinging his wooden sword, and Gryn blocked every strike with perfect timing.
When Rickon stumbled into a snowbank for the fifth time, Gryn shifted his feet and caught him one-handed.
Holding him like a kitten, he smiled. "Not bad. You're improving. Your thrusts today are half a beat faster than yesterday."
Hearing the praise, Rickon could only stand there grinning foolishly.
Over on the other side.
Syrio watched them and lowered his voice slightly. "Use your eyes to observe. Look, the king is not only fast, but immensely strong as well."
Arya asked doubtfully, "Rickon isn't heavy, is he? How did you figure that out?"
"You have to include the armor Rickon put on today."
Syrio smiled faintly. "Girl, watch His Majesty's wrist carefully. An ordinary knight would have veins bulging by now. Few could make it look so effortless."
"Oh, oh, oh." Arya nodded vigorously.
Meanwhile, Gryn, who was rubbing Rickon's head: "..."
This Braavosi swordsman knew far too much...
Fortunately, Gryn was a forgiving king.
Gryn suddenly turned, his blue cloak fluttering in the wind as grains of snow rustled down through the gaps in his pauldrons.
He beckoned and called out, "Forel, come. Let the children watch a slightly more intense contest between swordsmen."
At the king's invitation, Syrio's genial teacher's smile immediately froze.
After a brief pause, he bowed. "It would be a great honor, merciful Your Majesty."
It had snowed all night, so the king announced that today's outing for the hunt