The Three-Eyed Knight

The agonized howls gradually stopped.

Othello sank to his knees in dejection, his body hunched sideways to Titus, still trembling uncontrollably from the excruciating pain.

His head hung low.

He stared at his "right hand," now nothing but half a palm and a length of thumb, his pupils quivering violently within eyes stretched wide.

The knight from Blackmont stared in utter disbelief and incomprehension at the severing of his sword hand.

He could not understand it. He was so "far" away. He shouldn't have been able to cut me...

Then the last thumb on his "right hand" gave way too, coming free of the splintered bone that barely held it and falling soundlessly to the ground.

What followed was the Earl of Starpike's mocking voice:

"Ser Othello, what are you kneeling on the ground for? Did you drop something?"

Titus approached with his sword in hand, his curled lips brimming with malice.

"Ah, was it your confidence?"

Othello stifled his groans and endured the humiliation without a word.

He was waiting.

Waiting for a chance to take Titus down with him.

Only when Titus came close enough did the Blackmont Knight let out a hysterical roar. Having realized the instant he was crippled that his dream of marrying into her family had been utterly shattered, he spun around and slashed with a dagger in his left hand that he had deliberately kept hidden, attempting a treacherous surprise attack.

But Titus had not let his guard down.

He dodged, and in very good time, completely avoiding the man's underhanded attack.

You dare show off such paltry tricks before a master?

With a sneer, Titus flicked his sword and casually knocked Othello's dagger away.

The dagger spun through the air and landed blade upward, its handle happening to lodge in the gap between two square paving stones.

"You misunderstood me earlier. When I said I shouldn't have come, I meant you were no match for me. I said I only wanted a hand, but you insist on giving me your life too?"

Titus shook his head and feigned a sigh, showing none of the awareness that "villains died from talking too much." I'm as righteous a hero as they come.

He paid no mind as the unarmed Othello struggled to his feet, swaying and barely able to stand.

"Bringing soldiers to my door without any manners... roaring at me as you please in my own castle? And daring to covet my woman? Ha, who gave you the nerve? Where do you think you are?"

Titus asked softly, with no intention of getting an answer. He walked halfway around Othello, found the right position and angle, and continued on his own:

"This is-Starpike!"

With one Spartan Kick, the unarmed, crippled knight crumpled under the heavy blow and toppled backward.

The spot where the back of his head fell was precisely where the dagger had lodged.

And so.

A glinting "third eye" sprouted from the forehead of Ser Othello Blackmont, who lay facing the sky, his eyes open in death...

The duel was over.

Having treated this unusual fight as his morning exercise, Titus sheathed the longsword, its blade covered in tiny nicks, then tossed it to Parker, his captain of the guard.

Then he turned to Miss Lora Blackmont, who had approached with the captain, and smiled:

"Look what I've done for love..."

Before he could finish, Miss Lora flung herself enthusiastically at him, pressing into the arms of Titus, who had barely broken a sweat.

"Titus, how are you so amazing?"

What could he say?

"Uh... because I've seen Starpike in early spring?"

"Aaah! You're simply wonderful!"

Still not satisfied, the girl leaped up joyfully, hooked both arms around the young man's neck, tilted her head up, and offered him an excited, passionate kiss.

What could he do?

Kiss her while holding her and spinning her around, of course.

Only after finally managing the wildly excited girl did Titus have time to ask Starpike's maester:

"Maester Greg, is there bad news?"

Maester Greg sighed.

"Black wings always bring dark tidings."

The black-feathered ravens of Westeros were remarkable creatures, able to be trained by the maesters in the various castles to carry letters.

As Maester Greg spoke, he handed Titus the letter he held.

Because of their famous kinsman, Marlin Peake the "Scribe," House Peake had always placed great importance on education in reading, unlike other houses of martial nobility. Titus was naturally literate, unlike certain lords who were either illiterate or barely literate and relied entirely on their maesters to read their letters.

During his time as a squire at Nightsong, he had borrowed quite a few books from Maester Van Gandy to read.

After reading the letter, Titus frowned.

Lord Byron Caron, whom he had served as a squire for two and a half years and who had knighted him, had died.

According to the letter, a sudden chill had claimed the lives of the Earl of Nightsong, his wife, and his second son.

What a joke.

The Byron Caron he knew had been strong and not particularly old, in the vigorous prime of his life, and renowned for his swordsmanship among the nobles of the Dornish Marches.

How could some minor ailment have killed him?

The instant Titus learned of Earl Baylan's death, he felt that something was profoundly wrong.

Just then, Maester Greg met his gaze, and each saw the other's doubts about the cause of the earl's death.

Whatever the case, this was no time for romance...

Titus turned back and spoke gently, asking Lora Blamont to return home with the twenty Blamont household soldiers and to take the body of Othello Blamont, the "Three-Eyed Knight," with them... at the very least, they had to pull the dagger out of his forehead.

Being forced to submit and willingly letting someone go were two different things. Especially when it came to people from Dorne.

Titus made his decision on that matter quickly.

Lora Blackmont was clearly an emotionally driven sufferer of emotional dependency, but as an earl's heir, she was no ordinary woman either.

She understood that a Blamont knight had died at Starpike in the Dornish Marches, and the man who had killed him was the Earl of Starpike himself. If she wanted her relationship with Titus to develop any further, she had to go home.

"I'll miss you, Titus. Will you miss me too, and come visit me?"

Lora's little face was full of reluctance to part; even her fiery red hair seemed less vibrant.

"I'm so worried. Blackmont's walls are so high, and there are so many guards within..."

Titus pressed a finger to her pouting lips, as though he could stop her worries.

"Be at ease, my girl. When the opportunity is right, I'll fly over the garden walls on love's light wings. Walls of brick and stone cannot keep love out;

"And your eyes are more formidable than twenty swords. So long as you look at me with such tenderness, no one can harm my body."

Hearing what she wanted to hear, the girl clasped her beloved's hand and said, deeply moved:

"Oh, my Titus, I'm so infatuated with you... perhaps you think my behavior a little frivolous. But believe me, one day you'll understand that my heart far surpasses those women so skilled at feigning modesty."

Faced with the red-haired girl's bold declaration of love, Titus softened his gaze and chuckled.

"Why, Lora, do you really imagine me so dull?

"How could those affected women possibly compare with you?"

Only after seeing the girl coaxed into smiling again did Titus finally say goodbye:

"Don't let your thoughts run wild, Lora. Farewell!

"Once this bud of love has felt summer's warm breeze, perhaps it will bloom into a brilliant flower when next we meet..."

Titus had spoken no falsehood.

But before midsummer arrived, he first had to welcome spring...

Spartan Kick: