The joust (part two)

Jaime's first bout held no suspense. Even setting their riding skills aside, his warhorse alone was several grades better than his opponent's.

The power of money had already given him the upper hand, and his own abilities surpassed his opponent's as well.

After just two passes, Jaime pierced his opponent's wooden shield and knocked him from his horse.

"Boring."

Gary turned his horse around, ready to find somewhere less crowded for a nap.

The first round would take a long time, with nearly a hundred knights competing. Half would be eliminated before the second round of jousting began.

Until then, Gary had at least an hour or two to rest.

He rode over the wooden rail and reached a large tree outside the grounds. Then he dismounted, tethered his horse to the tree, and sat beneath it in his stiff plate armor, closing his eyes to rest.

"Lord Luke!"

A servant carrying a wooden shield without a coat of arms painted on it ran up to Gary.

Gary opened his eyes. He had no recollection of this unfamiliar servant. "Who are you?"

The servant explained, "I'm Lord Tyrion's attendant. You forgot to bring a wooden shield, so my lord sent me to deliver one."

Gary waved him away dismissively. "I don't need it. Take it back."

He found even the wooden lance and plate armor a nuisance. Had the rules not required them, he probably would have taken the field in his original leather armor.

Besides, under high-speed impacts, this wooden shield would shatter after only a few blows.

Rather than carry it, he would be better off keeping his left hand free, making his attacks more flexible.

The servant seemed rather at a loss. "But, Lord Luke, the other knights all have wooden shields to protect themselves. Are you sure you don't need one?"

"Yes, take it away." Gary closed his eyes to rest again.

With no other choice, the servant quietly left with the wooden shield.

Beside the small grove outside the grounds.

Tyrion was adjusting his belt after relieving himself when Cersei suddenly blocked his way.

"Whoa, my dear sister. Sometimes you really ought to avert your eyes," Tyrion teased as he fastened his leather belt.

Cersei, however, was furious. "Did you send the man who informed Robert?"

"Informed him? Oh, you mean about Ser Gregor trying to fill an empty slot privately and enter the joust without signing up? Please, this is a sacred tournament. How could we allow cheating?"

Tyrion remained unruffled, a false smile spreading across his face.

"You're a Lannister too!" Cersei snarled under her breath. "Don't forget who you are!"

Tyrion's smile gradually faded. "Of course I remember who I am, sister."

"Then stay quiet and don't come out to ruin things!" Cersei said coldly.

Tyrion turned a deaf ear and continued, "Quite a few Lannisters hold important posts in King's Landing. Not long ago, you even summoned our cousin Lancel here to serve as His Grace's personal squire. But everything has its limits. Don't forget, the Seven Kingdoms belong to the Baratheons, not the Lannisters."

Cersei's face darkened. "Whose side are you on, exactly?"

"The Lannisters', of course," Tyrion said with a smile. "Which is precisely why I'm helping the Starks for the moment. His Grace is in high spirits today. He wants to see a Stark win the tournament, so why not oblige him? Deepening his suspicions of us over such a trifle? How foolish!"

Cersei gritted her teeth. "You want to watch the Starks enter the Red Keep?"

Tyrion brushed past her. "How can Luke Snow, a bastard, represent the Starks? Besides, the Starks have lived in the North for years, practically cut off from the world. If you have time to guard against them, you'd do better to watch House Tyrell, which is colluding with the Master of Laws, Renly Baratheon."

Seeing Cersei unable to answer, left only to seethe in frustration, filled him with delight.

Tyrion paused a moment, then walked away with a wicked grin.

More than two hours later.

With his wooden lance resting on his shoulder, Gary swayed in the saddle as he rode into the grounds and approached the royal stand to pay his respects.

His opponent for this bout was beside him, bowing to the king along with him.

Gary cast a few casual glances at his opponent. Well, he couldn't see the man's face and didn't recognize his coat of arms. Looking had told him absolutely nothing.

Although he had studied a brief history of the continent under the Three-Eyed Crow, he was only familiar with the seven principal great houses. As for all the minor houses sworn to them, sorry, he really couldn't remember them all.

"Ha! After all these years, a Stark has finally returned to a tournament in King's Landing!"

Wine cup in hand, King Robert came to the front of the stand with keen interest. "Young Stark, don't disappoint me."

Gary spotted Arya standing beside Princess Myrcella, making faces at him. He smiled. "Your Grace, I'm not a Stark. But I believe I won't disappoint you."

King Robert's belly was so large that even his leather armor could barely contain it. He drained his cup and laughed. "Good! That's Stark blood for you. Go on, let everyone have a good look at what you can do."

The other knight could no longer hide his embarrassment. He glared fiercely at Gary, then turned and returned to the end of the lists.

His mind free of distractions, Gary rode leisurely back to the other end.

The two waited on horseback at opposite ends of the lists. At the sound of a horn signaling the start, they raised their reins and charged.

Clop, clop, clop...

The spectators watched unblinkingly as the two horses drew closer and closer. They heard not only the pounding hooves, but their own steadily quickening heartbeats.

Gary did not couch his lance to strike his opponent as an ordinary knight would. He wielded the wooden lance with both hands, and at the instant they met, he suddenly exerted his strength, sweeping it at the wooden lance his opponent was thrusting forward.

Crack!

His opponent's wooden lance was knocked off course and stabbed empty air.

While everyone was still stunned, Gary immediately brought his lance across and swept his opponent from the saddle.

Was... was that even possible?

The nobles and commoners watching were all dumbfounded, forgetting to cheer for a moment.

His opponent scrambled up from the ground in frustration, angrily pulled off his helmet, and pointed at Gary on horseback. "You cheated, you despicable northerner!"

With his wooden lance on his shoulder, Gary replied lazily, "Which rule says a lance can only be used to thrust during a joust, and not to sweep?"

"You..." His opponent flushed scarlet. There was indeed no written rule, but weren't these unwritten conventions among knights? This man had neither grace nor honor, suddenly breaking them and catching him off guard.

Gary ignored him. "Since there's no such rule, I win."

With that, he shook his reins and rode out of the lists.

His opponent remained on the field, gazing expectantly at the king high in the stand, hoping he would step forward to uphold justice and defend the knights' traditions.

"Hahahaha..."

Yet the king was already laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Clutching his fat belly, he announced loudly, "What an amusing Stark! The Stark wins this bout!"

"Hooray!"

Only with the king's approval did the crowd erupt in the cheers that should have come before.

The defeated knight hurled his helmet down in anger and stormed off the field.