Training Yard Sparring

Sansa could hardly believe what she had done last night.

She had been so bold. They had only met a few hours ago, yet she had done that with the Prince.

It was so embarrassing.

After calming down for the night, Sansa had returned to being a reserved young lady.

Today, she did not dare be alone with the Prince again. Yet whenever she did not see him, it felt as though a huge piece were missing from her heart, and nothing held any interest.

She could only hide by the window of the covered bridge, gazing dreamily at her Prince.

This bridge connected the main keep and the armory, and its windows overlooked the entire training yard. It would have been perfect without the annoying Arya beside her.

Sansa helplessly shot a glance at her loudly yelling sister.

In Winterfell's training yard,

Prince Tommen and Bran Stark were sparring with wooden swords.

Both boys wore thick leather armor, while Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's white-bearded Master-at-Arms, acted as referee.

Sansa's gaze remained fixed solely on Prince Joffrey, who stood watching from the edge of the field.

Bran and Tommen had been clumsily fighting for quite some time. In the end, the plumper Tommen fell first, while Bran raised his wooden sword high with a victorious smile.

Arya on the bridge cheered for Bran as well.

Ser Rodrik looked toward the edge of the field. "Your Highness the Crown Prince, Robb, would you like another match?"

Joffrey's attendants and knights immediately began to laugh.

In the previous match, the Crown Prince had held an overwhelming advantage. Had they not stopped at a touch, Robb would have lost badly.

Joffrey stopped his men's rudeness. "Let's change opponents instead. Theon?"

Nineteen-year-old Theon Greyjoy was startled. "Me? Prince Joffrey, have you picked the wrong person?"

Joffrey was brimming with confidence.

The hardships he had endured under Jaime's training over the past month had not been for nothing.

Not only had he worked hard, but the spiritual growth brought by the Rune had greatly enhanced his talent for learning. He was confident that, in terms of technique, he no longer lost to the famed Kingslayer.

Though he might lack experience, his advantage in physical ability was enough to make up for it.

The magical energy produced daily by the Growth Rune was making him stronger, while his increasingly powerful Mental Power gave him better control over his body. Even without using any overt or subtle magic, his physical attacks alone were now enough to defeat any normal human.

Joffrey and Theon stepped onto the training yard.

After fastening their protective gear and taking up blunt wooden swords, they slowly circled each other and closed in.

Everyone watched in anticipation.

Theon was the oldest, with years of experience and polished technique. The Crown Prince had previously defeated Robb as well. This looked to be another fierce battle.

Joffrey intended to end it quickly and teach Theon a proper lesson.

He had not come here today merely to show off. He wanted to leave a deep impression on the minds of these future Game of Thrones players, making them afraid to oppose him lightly and eventually bringing them under his command.

For someone as sensitive, insecure, and arrogant as Theon, beating him into submission was the simplest and most practical method.

The two stared intently at each other, inching closer step by step.

Only five meters remained.

Joffrey seized the moment, explosively lunging before his opponent and unleashing a torrential barrage of strikes.

Theon saw only a blurred flash.

The cracks of wooden swords colliding grew denser and louder with every breath, as though people could hear the wooden blades groaning before they broke.

Relying on his experience, Theon struggled to keep hold of his sword and block. "Impossible!"

Theon could not believe it.

Though this arrogant Prince was tall and broad, he was only twelve years old. How could he possess such monstrous strength?!

But his arms had already been numbed by the impacts, and his feet kept retreating.

Crack!

Theon's wooden sword exploded into several pieces. He staggered, then froze in place.

The Crown Prince's sword lay across his throat.

Sansa smiled radiantly from the bridge. "I knew it. My Prince is surely the best."

Arya curled her lip.

On the training yard, those Joffrey had brought with him applauded and cheered without restraint, while the Stark retainers cried out in amazement as well.

"As expected of King Robert's son. The demon of the Trident River has a worthy successor!"

"King Robert's warhammer is renowned throughout the world. It seems His Highness the Crown Prince will inherit his father's fame, and the Seven Kingdoms will surely prosper even more in the future."

Theon Greyjoy was utterly stunned.

Though he was now living under another's roof, often suffering mockery and disdain, Theon knew he was not worthless.

I am the heir to the Iron Islands, a resilient son of iron!

My archery, my swordsmanship.

Even Robb can't beat me!

But now—

I lost to an arrogant twelve-year-old brat?!

Theon felt as though even his last shred of dignity had been trampled beneath Joffrey's feet.

The turmoil in his heart clouded his mind. At that moment, he forgot all notions of rank and propriety.

"Use real swords! Do you dare fight with real swords?!"

Theon screamed wildly.

Ser Rodrik immediately rebuked him. "Have you gone mad, Theon? Real swords are far too dangerous. Only blunted tournament swords are allowed. If you lose, admit it!"

Robb frowned as well. "Calm down, Theon. Don't offend His Highness the Crown Prince."

Most of the others merely watched coldly.

Joffrey did not mind.

"It makes no difference. If Theon wants to witness a battle with real blades, I'm naturally happy to oblige."

Theon Greyjoy gave a twisted smile.

Joffrey glanced at him.

"A kind warning: my sword is no ordinary blade. It could defeat you all by itself. Don't blame me if your sword breaks."

The Hound immediately brought over Joffrey's Dragonflame from the side of the field.

Everyone's eyes turned toward it.

Joffrey extended his right hand and gripped Dragonflame's hilt.

Amid a clear, pleasing scrape of metal, a gleaming White Light seemed to grow from the scabbard out of thin air.

The sunlight concealed its true form.

Dragonflame lowered itself into its master's shadow, and at last the blade appeared before everyone.

The people were instantly captivated.

Mysterious black patterns, faintly visible crimson radiance.

A Valyrian Steel Sword?!

No, a sword even more beautiful and noble than that!

Theon, who had already not been favored, now completely lost everyone's attention.

Robb and the others began trying to dissuade Theon again.

Theon also sensed the shadow of defeat, but how could he retreat now?

No matter the outcome, he could only press on.

After urging them for quite some time, Theon finally received his sword from an attendant.

Joffrey stood motionless, leisurely watching Theon cautiously advance and retreat as he probed for an opening. He even had time to wave toward Sansa on the bridge.

With a startled cry, Sansa shrank back behind the stone wall beside the window. How could the Prince see her from there?

Arya giggled at her foolish sister.

The spectators in the training yard had already grown impatient. They jeered, telling Theon either to attack quickly or admit defeat at once.

Theon took a deep breath, then charged at Joffrey as if he were about to leap from a cliff.

Dragonflame danced through the air. The onlookers saw a veil of fiery red silk drifting toward Theon's steel sword.

Slash, clang~

The upper half of the steel sword fell to the ground. Theon lasted only a few breaths before the half-sword in his hand also slipped free and returned to the earth.

The outcome had held no suspense. Yet everyone was still shocked by Dragonflame's sharpness.

If war broke out, how much blood and how many lives would it claim on the battlefield? It was impossible to imagine.

Joffrey sheathed his sword.

Robb, Jon, and Theon were all here. The timing was perfect.

"There isn't much point in sparring alone."

"Fighting one-on-one should be left to soldiers. I've thought of a game that may suit us better."