The tourney, in the competitors' rest area.
Tyrion found a blond man in pale gold armor and a white cloak. He introduced him. "This is my elder brother, Jaime Lannister. As a member of the Kingsguard, he'll also be taking part in this tourney."
"This is the White Wolf of the North, Luke Snow."
Jaime studied Gary with interest. "The White Wolf of the North? Ha, I thought you'd be a very brawny man. I didn't expect a scrawny young brat."
The arrogance in his voice annoyed Gary, so he retorted, "You can find out for yourself just how brawny I am later."
Jaime liked Gary's spirit. He smiled. "I hope you actually have some skill, or the North is going to suffer quite a humiliation."
Tyrion tugged at Jaime and asked quietly, "Where's the plate armor I asked you to prepare? Where did you put it?"
Jaime jerked his chin toward the back of the rest area. "It's all in there."
Tyrion came over to Gary and looked up. "I'm not a competitor, so the rules don't allow me to approach the knights' rest area freely. Jaime will take you in. Arya and I will head to the stands first."
"All right."
Gary bent down and instructed Arya, who stood before him, "Stay close to Tyrion and wait for me in the stands."
Arya clenched her little fists. "Luke, you have to knock all their teeth out!"
Gary smiled. "All right, I promise."
Arya waved goodbye to Gary and left the rest area with Tyrion, walking toward the nobles' stands.
Jaime whistled. "Come on, follow me."
Gary followed him, and the two went all the way to the back of the rest area.
The rest area contained a large open space where all the competitors rested and practiced. There were also specially built horse troughs off to one side, where the knights could keep their warhorses.
Along the way, Gary saw quite a few tall, powerful knights. Some practiced with swords, some charged on horseback, and others discussed forming teams.
He seemed to attract particular attention, though.
Whenever he passed other knights, they would stop what they were doing and stare at him curiously.
Why? Was it because his hair was white?
Jaime led Gary over to the horse troughs and kicked a large wooden chest on the ground. "Your plate armor is in here. Want to try it on? We won't be competing until the afternoon anyway, so there's plenty of time."
Gary opened the chest. Inside lay a suit of silver-gray plate armor. Not only did it cover the body and limbs, but it also included a helmet, a gorget, gauntlets, and armored boots.
It truly offered protection from every angle. Unfortunately, it was expensive to make and far too cumbersome to see widespread use.
Just as Gary took off his leather armor and prepared to try on the plate armor in only his underclothes, a big, burly man approached.
"Ser Jaime, this is the White Wolf of the North? Doesn't he look far too frail?" The man could not hide his disappointment.
Jaime smiled. "This is the first time a northerner has entered His Grace's tourney. Don't be too hard on him."
The man gave a contemptuous smile. "Hey, northern brat, have you even been weaned yet? A tourney isn't a children's game. Piss off back to the North."
Gary ignored him. He was still examining the plate armor in his hands. "Hmm, where am I supposed to start putting this on?"
The man spat and reached for Gary's shoulder. "Brat, are you deaf?"
Gary's gaze instantly sharpened. He turned without hesitation and swiftly seized the man's outstretched hand.
"What are you doing?" The man tried to pull his right hand free, only to discover that he could not wrench it loose at all. This skinny little brat was actually that strong!
Crack.
"Aah!"
Clutching his hand, the man collapsed to the ground and screamed incessantly. A purplish handprint slowly appeared on his right hand. The bones inside were probably broken.
Gary rested his hand on Ice's hilt and said with a murderous expression, "Bother me again and I'll kill you."
Jaime watched everything unfold in astonishment. He had never imagined that the dull-looking boy from a moment ago would instantly turn into a berserker brimming with murderous intent.
With such intense killing intent seeping from his very bones, this boy must have killed quite a few people.
He truly deserved the name White Wolf.
He approached Gary. "If you want to kill him, you'd best do it during a bout. If he dies here, you'll still be arrested as a murderer."
Gary's killing intent vanished at once, and he gave an earnest smile. "You're worrying too much, Ser Jaime. I wasn't planning to kill anyone, just teach him a lesson. Well, I'll get back to trying on the Plate Armor."
With that, he turned around and continued fiddling with the plate armor.
Looking thoughtful, Jaime said quietly to the man with the broken hand, "His Grace doesn't want anyone spoiling his fun, so the tourney must go on. You understand?"
The man shakily rose to his feet and nodded repeatedly. "I understand. I broke my hand in an accidental fall. Don't worry, Ser Jaime. I'll withdraw right away."
"Good." After watching the man leave, Jaime came over to Gary.
Gary had already put on the lower-body pieces, including the armored boots, knee guards, and greaves. He turned to Jaime and asked, "Isn't the Kingsguard's duty to protect the king? Why are you taking part in the tourney too?"
Seeing him clumsily struggling to put on the plate armor, Jaime could not help offering a few pointers. Only then did he answer, "It seems the North really is poor. Have you never even taken part in a tourney?"
Compared with the other six kingdoms, the North was indeed poor. That was a fact, and Gary was not angry. He said, "Holding a tourney costs an enormous amount of money. The North is impoverished and unwilling to waste gold on something so meaningless."
Jaime's interest was piqued, and he asked curiously, "You're a boy in the prime of your youth. Why do you talk like an old man? A tourney is the best stage for great nobles to display their strength, and an unparalleled opportunity for many lesser nobles to make a name for themselves."
He was puzzled. "Have you no interest in power at all? What interests you, then? Girls, like my brother? Oh, then you two really ought to be friends. His dream now is to bed every whore in the Seven Kingdoms. You could accomplish it together."
Utterly speechless, Gary steered the conversation back. "Ser Jaime, you still haven't answered my question."
"Your question? Oh, you asked why the Kingsguard also takes part in tourneys?"
Jaime explained, "The host of a tourney usually chooses a 'Queen of Love and Beauty' in advance, then sends out five champions to fight in defense of her honor. If we win, the presentation of the Laurel Crown will be skipped, and the Laurel Crown will be delivered straight to Princess Myrcella."
"But if we all lose, the winner will receive the Laurel Crown. He can present it to any unmarried noblewoman in the stands, making her this tourney's 'Queen of Love and Beauty.'"
Gary frowned. "That sounds rather troublesome. It would be simpler if the Kingsguard won."
Jaime laughed aloud. "Every one of us is fighting for his own honor, yet you hope to lose to spare yourself trouble? White Wolf, you're the only northerner among all the competitors. Haven't you considered fighting for the honor of the North?"
Honor? A knight's sense of honor? Sorry, he truly had none of that.
Besides, he had heard that a knight presenting a Laurel Crown to an unmarried woman also signified a marriage proposal...
Gary looked at Jaime. "If I win, things will become even more troublesome. His Grace wants me to present the Laurel Crown to Princess Myrcella. Do you think that would be appropriate?"
Others did not know the truth, but Gary did.
The queen's three children-Joffrey Baratheon, Myrcella Baratheon, and Tommen Baratheon-were none of them fathered by King Robert Baratheon.
All three children were the result of incest between Queen Cersei Lannister and her younger twin brother, Jaime Lannister.
That was right! Princess Myrcella's real father was Jaime, who stood before him.
Jaime thought Gary knew his place, aware that he was a bastard and had no chance whatsoever with the princess.
In fact, even if Gary presented the Laurel Crown to the princess, the king would not marry her to him.
The king would marry the princess to Eddard's eldest son, Robb, rather than Gary, a bastard of unknown origins.
Jaime revealed very tactfully, "His Grace intends to form a marriage alliance with House Stark, but you aren't his first choice. If I were you, I would fight for the honor of the North and win the tourney! But I wouldn't present the Laurel Crown to the princess. I would choose a daughter of a great noble instead."
He said softly, "That way, you might be able to cast off your bastard surname and gain a true noble name."
Well, Gary agreed.
If he truly wanted to make something of himself, he ought to take Jaime's advice. Unfortunately, he had no interest whatsoever in such prospects.
"Too much trouble. I'll just take second or third. That way, the North keeps its honor, and I'm spared the bother."
Gary finished putting on the full suit of plate armor and began moving around to get used to it.
Jaime had finally seen it: this brat had no sense of honor at all.
"The warhorse prepared for you is the chestnut one. Our Lannister sigil is marked on its saddle. I need to get ready myself now. I'll see you on the field."
Gary lifted his visor. "Thank you. See you on the field."
Jaime rested a hand on his sword. "I look forward to facing you, White Wolf. Don't disappoint me." With that, he turned and left the horse troughs.
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