"Slow, far too slow." Gendry urged his horse forward, sweeping a lance from a Blue Cloak soldier's hand. Then he put strength into both arms and hurled it straight from horseback. The lance was sharp; let it taste blood and rejoice.
The ten-foot lance flashed like lightning, passing through the resister's chest as though cutting silk. Its point pierced clothes, skin, flesh, and bone without losing momentum. After bursting through his body, the spear charged onward, pinning the man who had tried to assassinate Grafton diagonally to the ground through his chest. Shredded tissue, blood, fragments of bone, and scraps of clothing all sprayed outward.
Amid the surging blood mist, the white spear tore savagely through the man, then slammed into a gap between the road's white flagstones. Its passing shadow was too swift to stop, and it stood embedded in the ground.
It was a bloody sight. Like a towering blade, the spear ran diagonally through the body into the earth. The fat man stared incredulously at the shaft in his chest, powerless to struggle. The rebel's life flickered like a candle in the wind until he finally died a miserable death, his blood flowing.
The smell of blood spread. This was the first death, and a bloody shadow began to fall over Gulltown.
"The first!" Gendry paid the fool no further attention and continued riding forward.
Every knight of the Vale witnessed that miraculous strike. After a moment's silence, overwhelming cheers erupted.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
"Gendry!"
"Gendry!"
The remaining few bold resisters saw the bloody scene unfold. Their attempt had been a gamble to begin with, and now they lost their courage entirely, falling to their knees and wailing.
"Traitors." Ser Barristan Selmy watched them. These wailing men who had acted had been