(Male protagonist's perspective)
As soon as I mounted my horse, I turned my gaze to Lord Royce in the distance of the arena. Lord Royce stood prominently at the far end of the arena, his figure striking. His ancient bronze armor, engraved with intricate and faded runes, shimmered softly in the sunlight, a testament to bygone generations. His demeanor exuded the pride and confidence of a king, a man skilled in command and accustomed to the attention of his colleagues.
As he adjusted his helmet, his movements were full of ritual, showing that he was ready for the upcoming duel. His head was tilted slightly, and his gaze was solemn and careful as he looked at the entire arena, indicating that he was a competitor who was aware of the challenges ahead and was prepared to uphold the honor of his family with a magnificent and majestic demeanor.
I turned my gaze to the arena; it was a stark contrast: nobles to my left basked in the comfort of their plush chairs and the shade of the trees in the luxurious stands. Diligent servants provided them with wine and fruit, catering to their every need. In stark contrast, commoners occupied the simple wooden stands to my right, exposed to the unforgiving sun. Yet, their eager expressions radiated boundless enthusiasm, unaffected by the harsh conditions.
Then, I turned my attention to Lord Royce's armor. At first glance, the armor seemed to have no magical aura whatsoever. But after a long period of careful observation, faint traces of magic emerged, indicating that it was either dormant or gradually eroded over time. The prospect of unraveling this mystery piqued my curiosity and compelled me to investigate further. So, I suggested...
"Lord Royce, shall we inject some passion into this match?"
My words seemed to momentarily startle Lord Royce, but his expression concealed the fear he was unwilling to show.
Please tell me what your thoughts are?
"I'm willing to wager my sword, Red Rain."
As soon as I finished speaking, the entire room fell silent; so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The conversation stopped, and all eyes were on our exchange.
"I'm afraid I'm still missing a Valyrian steel sword. Shall we make a bet?" Lord Royce boldly suggested.
"I am a follower of the Old Gods' faith, and the item you possess is almost equally significant. While others may consider it insignificant, its meaning resonates deeply with our beliefs. I invite you to consider wagering your bronze armor."
A flash of anger crossed Lord Royce's face. "How dare you suggest I wager my family's treasured heirloom!"
"But, Lord Royce, didn't you declare your unwavering loyalty to the Seven?"
Caught off guard once again, his answer carried a tone of assertion, "Indeed."
"Then I'd like to ask, why did you put on this armor that summons the protection of the Old Gods?"
A flicker of confusion crossed his face. "What are you implying? I don't seek the favor of a false god, and I never will."
"Lord Royce, I implore you to carefully consider your words when discussing matters of the Old Gods. I respect your beliefs and hope you will treat me with courtesy. Are you familiar with the inscriptions on your armor?"
"And you, as an ordinary citizen, possess such knowledge?"
"My origins do not hinder my learning abilities. While I may not be able to decipher all the runes, I recognize the ones around your neck. They signify, 'May the Old Gods protect the Bronze King.' Don't you understand what that means? As a follower of the Seven, have you relinquished the privilege of wearing armor offered by the Old Gods?"
I turned my gaze to the monks of Lannisport. "Monks, is wearing such armor in accordance with the creed of the Seven?"
The monk was clearly unwilling to answer. To this, I insisted, " The Seven are observing our actions, monk. Do you intend to conceal your judgment?"
He reluctantly admitted. "Indeed, wearing such armor is almost sacrilege."
A burst of noise emerged, providing me with a good opportunity to continue speaking.
"Lord Royce, although your armor may bear the marks of family tradition, the followers of the Old Gods believe that you and your ancestors relinquished the right to wear armor when you accepted the Andals ' faith and adopted the Seven."
Lord Royce's retort was laced with anger. "How dare a commoner slander the honor of a nobleman? A knight like you is arrogant beyond your station."
"I have no intention of disgracing the dignity of the nobility. If I were merely a lowly knight, why would a high-ranking Knight of the Vale oppose a wager? It gives you the opportunity to display the spirit of a Knight of the Vale against a commoner who is seemingly inferior."
"Looks like you need a lesson, young man. I'll take the bet!"
Lord Royce lowered his helmet and assumed a fighting stance. I love seeing them lose their composure at the slightest provocation. The upcoming contest is unlikely to be marked by friendship; instead, my goal is to create an atmosphere of fear. Taking the spear from Caygan, I braced myself for the impending clash.
Horseback combat is something I'm very familiar with, as I'm already quite adept at it. Of course, the enhanced attributes my contract grants, such as high reflexes, also greatly help. The increased reflexes and agility give me the upper hand in most matches. Only when facing opponents with significantly superior physical abilities do I encounter difficulties. However, even in such situations, I can still employ various strategies and tactics. This is merely a game-like combat, and it doesn't truly reveal how powerful a person is.
As Lord Royce and I charged toward each other, our horses galloping, my reflexes surpassed conventional limits. This enhancement allowed me to anticipate the trajectory of his spear and adjust my position to deflect it. Simultaneously, I launched a retaliatory strike at his arm—a calibrated attack intended to inflict pain, not to disarm him. The aim was not to defeat him, but to deliberately instill fear. This escalated into a series of clashes.
During our seventh exchange, Lord Royce lifted his mask, indicating he needed water. Our eyes met, and I detected a hint of fear in his gaze. He was beginning to realize I was toying with him. If needed, I could weave a protective spell beneath my armor, then layer it with healing magic to repair the damage from a blunt force impact. But I didn't need to do that. I could read him like an open book, always dodging at the last second, ensuring his blows were merely grazed.
Four more similar encounters followed, until Lord Royce finally begged to surrender. He faced a crucial choice—whether to uphold his pride or gracefully concede defeat. In the twelfth conflict, his patience reached its limit; he surrendered, collapsing to the ground, panting heavily.
I led my horse closer to him and said loudly.
"You have fully demonstrated the bravery and strength of the Vale Knights. I was truly awestruck by your courage and superb skills. You have truly shown me who the best is."
I announced with an arrogant, cold laugh, "I await delivery of my armor to my tent within an hour."
Such a bold move is something even the lords of the North would not possess. I have resolved to avoid making enemies in the North unless necessary. However, my attitude toward the Vale is different, stemming from my unique strategic motives; I have no need for allies in the Vale. I raised my broken spear high and declared.
"For the glory of the North and the Old Gods!"
A satisfied expression appeared on the North Lord's face, while our army erupted in fervent singing, chanting my name. Amidst the cheers, Lord Stark stood alone, his face grim—a sign that an impending reprimand awaited me.