The nobles' viewing stand.
Tyrion sat at the very front of the tiered stands, in one of the best seats that even money could not buy.
The stands were packed with nobles, and even the seats on either side of Tyrion were occupied... Huh? Strangely, the people sitting beside him were not Arya, but two nobles he did not recognize.
Where had Arya gone? Why was she not with him?
Directly in front of the stands were two straight lanes, which would serve as the Jousting Tournament grounds.
Since it was not yet time for the Jousting Tournament, both lanes stood temporarily unused, with no one on them.
The other contests were underway outside the lanes. Though they were some distance away, the nobles still watched with keen interest.
Jaime rode proudly onto the track on his warhorse and spoke to Tyrion across a wooden railing. "My dear brother, don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. You want to use that northern brat to embarrass our sister?"
Tyrion did not deny it. "A week ago, I nearly died in a brothel," he said calmly.
Jaime pursed his lips. "Cersei hates you, but she wouldn't go so far as to kill you."
Tyrion sneered. "Of course she wouldn't dare kill me, but she wanted to humiliate me. She wanted me to run naked through the streets of King's Landing and make a complete laughingstock of myself! If Luke hadn't appeared, I'm afraid I would have done just that. So, Jaime, who exactly is embarrassing whom?"
Jaime lowered his voice. "His Majesty has long wanted to summon Eddard Stark to serve in King's Landing and take a share of our Lannister power. Father's pressure is the only reason he hasn't done it. Yet you're actually helping His Majesty make connections with House Stark? Aren't you afraid Father will blame you?"
Tyrion remained quite calm. "Why would Father blame me? His Majesty's spies are all over the city. The moment White Wolf and the others entered King's Landing, His Majesty already knew. Even without my recommendation, His Majesty would still have found White Wolf."
Jaime glanced at the nobles sitting on either side of Tyrion. Yes, they were all their own people from the Westerlands.
He stopped concealing his words. "Father won't be pleased to see House Stark enter the Red Keep, and neither Cersei nor I want those northern paupers ordering us around. Hmph, but don't worry. I'll help you deal with this problem."
"Hmm?"
Tyrion could not help turning to ask, "What are you planning to do?"
Jaime put on his helmet. "I'll kill him in the lists and put an end to His Majesty's hopes."
Tyrion smiled faintly. "Then I wish you good luck, brother."
Jaime gave Tyrion a long look, then rode away.
The knights' rest area.
Gary took off his plate armor and changed back into his own leather armor.
"What's wrong? Does the plate armor not fit?" A familiar voice greeted him from behind.
Gary turned in surprise. The newcomer was a plump, bald, middle-aged man wearing the same style of leather armor used in the North.
"Ser Kesso? What are you doing here?" He put down the plate armor and gave the man a hug.
Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms, was the man who had first taught Gary to ride. His two comical mustache braids were a look Gary would never forget.
Ser Kesso straightened up, his belly protruding. "His Grace sent me to King's Landing to bring Lady Arya back."
Gary immediately pointed the way. "Arya is over at the nobles' viewing stand. You can find her there."
With a hand on his sword, Ser Kesso said, "I already ran into Lady Arya outside just now. She's with His Majesty at the moment, so I had time to come and see you."
Gary scratched his head sheepishly. "I'm not a child anymore, Ser Kesso. You don't need to worry... Oh, right."
He removed Ice from his waist and handed it to Ser Kesso. "This is Ice. I hope you can take it back to Winterfell as well, ser."
Holding the long, heavy Ice, Ser Kesso stared at the badly deformed leather belt around Gary's waist. "Isn't it heavy, wearing Ice at your waist?"
Gary tightened his inexplicably loose belt and smiled. "It's all right. Ice has quite a bit of heft to it."
Little monster.
The corner of Ser Kesso's mouth twitched involuntarily, and he offered Ice back to Gary.
"Keep it for now. Give it to me after the tourney."
Gary did not take the sword. "Ser Kesso, I'm only entering the Jousting Tournament. They have wooden lances specifically for it here. I don't need a sword."
Ser Kesso sighed. The little monster did nothing but train all day; he did not even know the most basic customs of the nobility.
"You've had quite a few people provoke you since you arrived here, haven't you?"
Gary's smile stiffened. "How did you know, Ser Kesso?"
Ser Kesso pointed at Ice. "When knights face each other in the lists, the loser gives his armor, sword, and warhorse to the winner. So, when you enter carrying a Valyrian steel sword, how could they not provoke you?"
Gary froze for a moment. That was a rule too? He genuinely had not known.
"Then I have even less reason to carry Ice. What if I lose..."
Ser Kesso thrust Ice into Gary's arms. "Take it. If you enter without Ice now, the other houses will only look down on the North and think we of Winterfell can't afford to lose! For the North, for House Stark, you absolutely must not lose. Besides, as the man who first trained you, I don't think you will."
Noble honor again?
Gary accepted Ice with a wry smile. "I'll try... I'll give it everything I have."
Noon.
The first half of the contests came to an end, and the nobles once again began feasting and drinking. Once they finished lunch, the afternoon contests would begin.
All the knights taking part in the afternoon Jousting Tournament had donned their plate armor and ridden out to wait beyond the grounds, wooden lances over their shoulders.
Gary was among them, looking disdainfully at the wooden lance in his hand. The thing was long and thick, too heavy for an ordinary person, who could do little more than hold it up and rely on the horse's momentum to thrust. Did such a cumbersome lance really have any practical use in battle?
"Luke!"
Outside the line, Tyrion stood on the grass beyond the wooden railing, waving at Gary.
Gary rode over and removed his helmet. "I've already heard about Arya. Thank you, Tyrion."
Tyrion came a little closer. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Listen carefully. That Valyrian steel sword of yours draws a lot of attention. Plenty of people want to use your life to build their reputation and future. Be careful."
Gary understood. Tyrion was warning him that someone intended to kill him.
He shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "It's fine. Let them come."
Tyrion had been quite confident in Gary, until he had run into someone just now...
"You need to be especially careful. The queen seems to have summoned Ser Gregor of House Clegane. If he competes too, he'll be the opponent you need to watch most closely."
Gregor? Who was that?
Gary had never heard of House Clegane. "Is he very good?"
Tyrion nodded gravely. "His size and strength are beyond anything you can imagine. You must be careful."
Huge and strong, and under Cersei Lannister's command...
Gary seemed to think of someone. "The Mountain?"
Seeing that Gary knew Gregor Clegane, Tyrion felt some relief. "That's right. His nickname is the Mountain That Rides. You must use your full strength when you face him. He'll certainly try to kill you!"
The Mountain's strength was beyond question. He was a giant over two meters tall. He could wield a two-handed greatsword with one hand, a ruthless man who could crush a human skull with his bare hands!
Still, the Mountain was not invincible. He had suffered defeat in the show too... Well, that ought to count as a defeat, right?
Gary sighed. Did he really understand why Cersei wanted to kill him?
He had never wanted to take part in this game of power, yet had he already become deeply entangled in it without realizing?
But the mention of the Mountain brought another character Gary rather liked to mind. "Does the Mountain have a younger brother called the Hound?"
Tyrion was a little surprised. "Haven't you spent all your years in the North? You even know about Sandor? Sandor and Gregor don't get along. After Gregor inherited the title, Sandor left House Clegane of his own accord and chose to serve their liege house, Lannister, directly."
"He's Prince Joffrey's guard now. Do you know him?"
Gary shook his head in denial. "No. I just find it interesting. Why would a perfectly good man choose to be a dog?"
Tyrion fell silent for a while. "If it finds a good master, a dog can live better than a man."
"Woooo!"
A horn rang out across the grounds, signaling that the joust was about to begin. The knights adjusted their plate armor and prepared to enter.
"Yes. In a world like this, staying alive is good enough. As for being a man or a dog, what difference does it make?"
Gary put on his helmet, said goodbye to Tyrion, and joined the main body of knights as they prepared to enter.
An unreadable light flickered in Tyrion's eyes. "What bold words. Luke of the North, what sort of man are you, really?"
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